MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 a ^obcl 
 
 BY 
 
 EMILIA AYLMER BLAKE. 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' A CROWN FOR LOVE,' ' NELSON,' ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 ovK i6r i^aarrig Hdng ovx all (piKsi 
 
 Euripides. 
 
 ' But this was taught me by the dove, 
 To die — and know no second love. 
 This lesson yet hath man to learn, 
 Taught by the thing he dares to spurn : 
 The bird that sings within the brake. 
 The swan that swims upon the lake. 
 One mate, and one alone, will take.' 
 
 BVRON. 
 
 REMINGTON AND CO, 
 133, New Bond Street, W. 
 
 [Removed froTti 5, Arundel Street, Strand.} 
 
 iSSo. 
 [Ail Rights Reserved.]
 
 PR 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER tAOk 
 
 I. SWEET SIXTEEN - -'^ - - I 
 
 II. THE GOD OF MV IDOLATRY - ' ^9 
 
 III. MY DEAREST FOE - - - "47 
 
 IV. AGAINST THE WORLD - - - 66 
 
 V. HOPE DEFERRED - - - "79 
 
 YL MAKETH THE HEART SICK - - "91 
 
 VII. TRUST ME ALL IN ALL - - 102 
 
 VIII. OR NOT AT ALL - - - ' ^^5 
 
 IX. THE DESIRE ACCOMPLISHED - 133 
 
 X. IS SWEET TO THE SOUL - - . " I42 
 
 XI. 'tWIXT cup AND LIP - - -153 
 
 XII. there's MANY A SLIP - - - 1 68 
 
 XIII. MAN PROPOSES - . - - 193 
 
 XIV. WOMAN DISPOSES - - - " 213 
 XV. LOVE, THOU ART BITTER - - -223 
 
 XVI. SWEET IS DEATH TO ME - - - 239 
 
 lOnon^jn
 
 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. 
 
 * Outre tous ces discours, toutes ces gentillesses 
 Ne vous faisait-il point aussi quelques caresses ? 
 
 ' Oh, tant ! II me prenait et les mains et les bras, 
 Et de me les baiser il n'etait jamais las.' 
 
 MoLiERE, Ecole des Femvics. 
 
 Far away in old world Cornwall I was bred, 
 though not born, under the wing of a loving, 
 aged foster parent, my father's mother, a 
 widow, who cared but for me in the world. 
 No two companions ever were more 
 opposite than we, in tastes and fashions of 
 
 VOL I. I
 
 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 heart and mind, and yet I loved her well, 
 having no other truly to love. Our home 
 was a neat house of modest pretensions, 
 in a marine town, which I shall call Stor- 
 mouth, half fashionable in the ' season' 
 and occasionally galvanised into a show of 
 life by garrison balls and theatricals : but 
 we, my grannie and I, cared for none of 
 these things. From childhood to girlhood 
 I had been acquainted with few even of 
 other children, but passed my time in such 
 solitary play as I could, until my grannie 
 got masters — the best the neighbourhood 
 could afford — to teach me all I was inclined 
 to learn ; and then I devoted myself to 
 study and hard work, being possessed with 
 a precocious ambition to do and to be 
 something under the sun which my poor 
 father and unknown mother closed their 
 eyes upon so early. 
 
 I was indeed an orphan, * deprived of 
 light,' as the Greek origin of the word de- 
 rives it ; to live and die in the cold shadow 
 of the world's neglect, unless by some 
 means I could lift myself above it, and this 
 was early made known to me through my 
 grannie's frequent lament, ' What will be-
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. 
 
 come of my poor child ? Bread and cheese 
 I can give you/ she would say, ' but what 
 is that to a girl like you ? Connection is 
 everything, connection and position, and 
 all our people are in their graves but you 
 and I. How ever are you to marry ?' 
 
 That never troubled me ; but I took 
 pleasure to read of the fair Gabrielle, how 
 in a similar strait, a fortune-teller promised 
 her higher destinies than those dues of her 
 birth she was deprived of : upon me too, it 
 was borne in by some prophetic instinct, 
 that I should win a hero's heart, some 
 Henri Quatre, whom heaven should make 
 for me to be his wife, perhaps ; his love, 
 assuredly ; his mistress ? no, never ! 
 
 A cruel death fair Gabrielle died by 
 poison. Ah, well ! that 1 might have 
 braved. Since wishes were my only pos- 
 sessions, why should I not wish, like the 
 wisest of the three sisters in the Eastern 
 tale, to be the Caliph's wife, rather than his 
 cook's or baker's ? and she had her wish ! 
 Was I not, by my mother's side, a daughter 
 of that wondrous land of the sun, where 
 miracles are common as the light of noon ? 
 My name, too, Leila ? Memories also I
 
 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 had of a stately life in London, where my 
 father, the tenant for life of an inheritance 
 entailed in the male line, used to boast of 
 his little Indian beauty, his only child, and 
 say to other fathers, proud of their five, six, 
 or seven, ' I have eight in one.' He was 
 recalled to serve in India, and slain in 
 battle in the prime of manhood. He left 
 me an infant, not able yet to realise the 
 tremendous loss to be felt every hour of my 
 future life more and more keenly, but I 
 wept as much as a little child could weep 
 when they told me papa was gone away — 
 dead — and I begged to die too, and go to 
 him in heaven. 
 
 The crown without the cross ! To that 
 I was not born. Happily the spirit of a 
 child is elastic as its tread, and will not 
 break under one blow. At thirteen I 
 began to feel as a woman, and often and 
 often would I walk alone by the sea, 
 making companions of the melancholy 
 waves, in mournful envy of other girls of 
 my age, whom I saw caressed and praised 
 by a fond father, while I had none to cling 
 to under heaven but the poor old grand- 
 mother, who rather reproved than en-
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. 
 
 couraged my too demonstrative affection. 
 She had Hved through too much to feel in 
 common with the young passionate heart 
 that chafed under her very kindness, and 
 hungered for other love than hers. 
 
 About this time it happened that a 
 name I had caught from my father's lips, 
 to be ever remembered with honor and 
 regard, rose very high in fame, and be- 
 came common in every house throughout 
 England. I do not repeat it here, for 
 what cause will appear hereafter ; enough 
 that its great possessor passed one day in 
 our humble town, marking an epoch in the 
 annals of the same as surely as he fixed 
 the attention of every man, woman, child 
 and quadruped in the place. I too was 
 stirred by the hubbub and clatter of hoofs : 
 I marked him rising in his saddle while a 
 attendant orderly jogged, regulation wase, 
 with the brisk trot of his horse. I watched 
 the great man alight, measuring him with 
 my eyes — six feet of heroic manhood — my 
 father's height, and a presence not unlike 
 his. Something much more than a mortal, 
 though I felt that it would be a sin to give 
 way to my impulse- — to fall down and wor-
 
 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ship him. Certainly, if no one could have 
 seen me, I should have liked to kiss the 
 particular spots on the ground where his 
 foot had rested. In all time to come I 
 could not choose but those worn out stone 
 steps must be inexpressibly dear to me for 
 his sake. 
 
 I partly foro^ot him, however, so far at 
 least as to waste no time in dreams, but re- 
 turned with a fresh impulse to the task 
 which should fit me for that ' broad stream 
 of the world ' whose course attracted me. 
 It was discovered I had a voice. What 
 gentlemen value above all accomplishments 
 in a woman is to sing well, according to 
 my grandmother's lights, from which I 
 nowise dissented, but improved my gift to 
 the best of my power under the guidance 
 of the parish church organist, no mean 
 master, as my luck would have it, who 
 made me his pet pupil. But with all this, 
 I yet craved beauty, fearing much lest in 
 that I should not keep the promise of my 
 childhood. Was I plain or pretty ? Alas ! 
 I could not resolve that question to my 
 satisfaction, neither by the aid of my glass, 
 nor yet by means of the booby-like conduct
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. 
 
 of my old master's nephew, an ingenuous 
 youth three years older than myself, whom 
 I had used as my slave from the respective 
 ages of seven and ten, making him useful 
 in stitching my doll's clothes, and, later on, 
 as an errand boy between me and his uncle, 
 until, having completed his sixteenth year, 
 he adopted an odd fashion of blushing 
 through all his pimples as red as a poppy 
 at sight of me, and, if he happened to find 
 me alone in our parlour, making his way 
 out again, with a stammering apology, as 
 fast as his long legs could carry him. Out 
 of such demeanour on the part of my old 
 playmate I could make no sense, but, con- 
 vulsed with laughter, would describe the 
 scene to his uncle, whose — ' I've heard tell 
 of you. Miss Lily' was always provocative 
 of a fresh peal of merriment from me. 
 The old man was very fond of me, and 
 took these vagaries as if they were hurts 
 to something belonging to himself. The 
 nephew was too young, the uncle at sixty 
 too old to fall in love, I foolishly thought. 
 I knew nothing yet of men and their 
 ways. 
 
 And now I touched upon sixteen ! Living
 
 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 shut up in the proverbial band-box, which, 
 in due course, goes on to the shelf, but 
 wherein, as unenterprising mammas assure 
 their discontented daughters, their ' luck 
 will come ' to them as soon as in any Bel- 
 gravian drawing room ; and there did fate 
 very nearly find me out, sooth to say, in 
 the unlovely, but substantial shape of a new 
 candidate for our Borough of Stormouth, a 
 lacker of advancement, matrimonial as well 
 as political. His lady mother and can- 
 vasser-in-chief waited, according to form, 
 upon my grandmother, to make request 
 for her small influence, she having some 
 property in and about the town. My 
 grandmother was not too gracious, being 
 an oldfashioned Tory of staunch principles, 
 in contradistinction to the new candidate, 
 who went in as a dilettante Radical, or 
 
 * Moderate Liberal,' as dame Mauleverer, 
 his mother, put it euphuistically to grannie. 
 ' I don't understand these distinctions,' 
 observed the latter, with much simplicity ; 
 
 * but is not Mr. Mauleverer a high Tory } 
 I should think he must be, the name is so 
 good.' 
 
 ' Well, not quite what you would call a
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN 
 
 Tory ; in fact, there is no such thing in 
 the world now ; a gentleman must be 
 liberal and make his way with all classes, 
 high and low, or he'll soon be thrust out 
 of his place. But my son's principles are 
 the same as yours and mine, my dear 
 friend, only he must act in opposition to 
 the Government and make himself trouble- 
 some. That's the way to get into power 
 now-a-days. He must compel them to take 
 him into the Privy Council to keep him 
 quiet.' 
 
 ' I'm sorry for it ; that used not to be 
 the way with honourable men. I'm afraid 
 the whole of England is rotten to the 
 core.' 
 
 ' That it is, my dear madam ; all every- 
 one of us has to do is to cut out our own 
 slice outside the general corruption — to 
 keep clear of it, in fact. I shall be happy 
 to do anything within my power for you 
 and your little grand-daughter. Of course 
 you'll give all your interest to my son ?' 
 
 ' Well — yes ; at least, I'll think about it,' 
 hesitated grannie, and at this stage of the 
 proceedings I made my entrance on the 
 scene. I had just come in from bathing,
 
 lO MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 with dripping hair, and toilette — such as it 
 was — demolished by the wind. Mrs. 
 Mauleverer looked down at my feet, and 
 then at my head, from a height of con- 
 tempt that conjured up from my hurt self- 
 esteem a very demon of rebellion. There 
 was a defiance in the courtsey I dropped 
 down to the ground, to show I knew how 
 to do it, as my grandmother introduced 
 me. ' Youno^ o-irls ouofht to be taugfht how 
 to dress,' predicated my enemy of me ; ' or 
 otherwise they know no better than to 
 make frights of themselves, and no one 
 can tell what they may lose by giving a 
 bad impression. That child has a great 
 look of her father. Ah ! I knew him very 
 well. Yes, she has a look of him, but his 
 complexion was nothing like so dark ; he 
 was a fine handsome Englishman.' 
 
 ' I have heard I have my mother's com- 
 plexion/ I remonstrated. 
 
 ' Oh no, oh no ! not at all ; she was a 
 very beautiful woman. And now I must 
 take myself off, I have so many to call 
 upon. I make sure I can reckon upon you, 
 dear Mrs. Fortescue, and as for that little 
 minx, she may make a great match yet ;
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN I I 
 
 dress her, dress her !' My grandmother,, 
 neither pledging herself, nor yet demurring 
 to any of Mrs. Mauleverer's conclusions, 
 that lady, as it were to clinch her argu- 
 ment, stepped back into the room to say 
 — * My son shall call on you himself,' and 
 with that left us, my grandmother half- 
 flattered, myself wholly indignant at her 
 impertinence, meant for condescension. 
 One thing she had made sensible to me in 
 her praise of my parents, that I was by 
 comparison to be despised in her eyes, 
 and to this, I made up my mind, her son 
 should be no party, good luck and bright 
 wit favouring me ; so I followed the 
 enemy's good counsel, and dressed myself 
 for conquest, crowning the achievement 
 by a most mischievous hat of my own 
 device. Mr. Georgfe Auo^ustus Mauleverer 
 came, saw, and was overcome ; so true is 
 it that the masculine disposition is to be 
 subdued by a bit of straw and a tuft of 
 feather. 
 
 I lay in wait for him in the garden in 
 front of our house, pretending not to ex- 
 pect, or know him when he came ; and by 
 this ruse de guerre quite, threw h\m oft his
 
 f2 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 pedestal as a man of family and fashion. 
 At first sight of me he gave a start of 
 surprise, doubtless to find me so opposite 
 to the dusky, dwarfish fright I had been 
 described to him. Not content with this 
 satisfaction, I drew him on, after he fol- 
 lowed me into my grandmother's drawing- 
 room, into something very like serious 
 admiration ; ignorant as I was, yet all the 
 more wise with the cunning in such matters, 
 which, old Montaigne says, comes by nature 
 as the gift of the author of all evil to every 
 daughter of Eve, however young and simple 
 she may be. 
 
 Next day, while unconscious of the 
 amount of mischief I had achieved, and 
 ruminating on its possible extent with some 
 alarm, I was aroused by the mother of my 
 victim sweeping down like a provoked kite 
 upon our dove-cot. With much ostentation 
 of mystery, and the initiation of my grand- 
 mother into a mighty secret, she ordered 
 * the little goose,' meaning my too quick- 
 witted self, out of the room. What she 
 there and then imparted in most solemn 
 confidence to my grandmother I failed not 
 to coax out, word for word, after she was
 
 SWEET SIXiEEN. 
 
 gone, nor shall I by concealing the same 
 run risk of crossing any reader's feminine 
 curiosity, or masculine rather, compared 
 to which latter our weaker faculty is but 
 'as water unto wine.' 
 
 In one word I had made a conquest of 
 George Augustus Mauleverer, so that his 
 five thousand a year, prospective title of 
 M.P., and somewhat stumpy person were 
 metaphorically placed at my small feet, 
 always provided that I, by fortune, birth, 
 and connection, could make some decent 
 show of equivalent. This was not to be 
 calculated too rigidly, inasmuch as George 
 had his fancy to please : he might easily 
 marry a girl in his own class of life, she, 
 little minx, for her part, might make a 
 higher match, though that was most im- 
 probable ; but those two young people 
 would never be so happy as by uniting 
 themselves for life. How old was the chit ? 
 Not sixteen. Why, they say she's seven- 
 teen all out — quite old enough to be married 
 when a gentleman is willing to have her. 
 Wait ? No, George Augustus would not 
 wait. It would be an impertinence to ask 
 a or^ntleman to wait.
 
 14 MY ONLY LOVE 
 
 Five thousand pounds ! Not enough to 
 pay election expenses. No matter : 
 another five thousand on death of grand- 
 mother. Very well ; five hundred a year 
 should be settled on her, if she survived 
 her husband. But the estate ? Oh no ! 
 George Augustus would not settle the 
 estate. She might die without a son, and 
 he would have to marry again. Was she 
 not consumptive ? 
 
 All reflections made, I jumped to the 
 conclusion that if anybody was to be con- 
 stituted match-maker in my behoof, Mrs. 
 Mauleverer was the very last person in the 
 world whose interference I would suffer, 
 while poor grannie proved herself a mere 
 feather to be twisted about the shrewd 
 dowager's thick fingers. 
 
 ' I won't have him,' I blurted out, to dear 
 old grannie's consternation. 
 
 * Why, my dear Lily, how can you say 
 so ? And why ? Tell me why.' 
 
 ' Why, because I won't, and I don't care 
 for him, and I never can, and there's an 
 €nd of it' 
 
 ' Why, you seemed to like him so much 
 yourself.'
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. 1 5 
 
 ' Like to torment him, you mean.' 
 
 ' Oh, Lily !' 
 
 ' Well, like him in a way, but not to 
 marry him.' 
 
 * You'll never see such a match again if 
 you miss him ; you must marry some time.' 
 
 ' Well, perhaps not' 
 
 ' My dear, but you must ; I would have 
 you marry a duke, if I could.' 
 
 ' And because you cannot, I'm to take the 
 first that comes, whether I like him or not.' 
 
 ' You'll grow to like him if you marry 
 him ; you may as well like him as anyone 
 else.' 
 
 ' I don't see that. He's a little tubby 
 figure ; and you know you brought me up 
 to admire height in a man. My father was 
 six feet high,' I pouted in deprecation. 
 
 ' As if I could foresee a man of such a 
 position would propose, and you want to 
 refuse him for that.' 
 
 ' Well, and his politics — a Whig and a 
 Radical. When I was a child, you warned 
 me against even dancing with any man who 
 was not a Tory, and now you want me to 
 marry in the teeth of your own principles.' 
 
 ' Women's principles, my love, must give
 
 1 6 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 way to paramount necessity ; think of the 
 dancrer of your beincj- left an old maid.' 
 
 At that I laughed a long and merry 
 laugh, ringing with the bright scorn of six- 
 teen summers, 
 
 ' Ah, I can see no good to come of this,' 
 she feebly remonstrated, and on a renewal 
 of confabulation, between both old ladies, 
 it was decided that Georgfe Augustus 
 should speak for himself, who, no doubt, 
 all important preliminaries being once 
 satisfactorily arranged, would easily over- 
 come the forgotten trifle of my opposition. 
 Accordingly George Augustus came at his 
 leisure, a few days afterwards, to do what 
 he should have done at first — make love 
 
 to me. 
 
 It was the first formal declaration I had 
 ever received from a man, but after the 
 first blush — (literally), which for a moment 
 tinged my cheek — not apt to color 
 hitherto, the more he prayed and pressed 
 the more indifferent I felt, the more ardent 
 he for my coldness. I could have looked 
 him quietly in the face through it all, and 
 only dropped my eyelids because I thought 
 it was the proper thing to do. It had been
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. I 7 
 
 enjoined upon me not to be rude to him, 
 to let him kiss my hand ; and so much did 
 he abuse this permission that I doubt 
 whether the Queen's hand, in all her life, 
 received a like quantity of kisses to mine, 
 in that one long summer's day. 
 
 The first taste of love was sweet to me, 
 if not the lover. While his lips pressed 
 my fingers, and crept up the tiny wrist to 
 print themselves upon the soft smoothness 
 of the rounded arm, I wandered away in 
 imagination towards that other, once seen 
 and now recalled to memory, and thought 
 in envy of the happy woman who should 
 win from him such delicate, tender caresses. 
 He was not married ! That flashed upon 
 me ; and should I marry now ? I broke 
 away from the profaning touch, resolved to 
 suffer it no more. 
 
 This was no longer a matter of choice 
 with me, having provoked my assailant too 
 far. 
 
 ' Lily, my darling, listen to me like a 
 darling,' he remonstrated ; ' say three little 
 words — " 1 love you," or if you cannot, 
 one kiss.' 
 
 Before I could struggle he had done it. 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 l8 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 Angered and ashamed I began to cry. 
 It was the first kiss I had ever had from a 
 man, except once when I was four years 
 old. A painter to whom I sat with my 
 father for our portraits called me Mittle 
 Chatterbox ;' I, not understanding the 
 epithet, asked for an explanation, and re- 
 ceived a kiss which I, desiring to return 
 with a decorous slap in the face, mounted 
 upon a footstool with that intent, but found 
 I could not by at least a couple of feet 
 reach up to my purpose. Vexed at this, 
 I burst into tears, and the like did now. 
 
 ' Oh, Lily, Lily, your beautiful eyes — 
 don't spoil them like that. I'll kiss away 
 those tears for you, naughty girl ! I won't 
 be put away. Why, have I pulled down 
 your hair, and you want to put it up again 
 with your little fingers ? What a heap of 
 lovely hair — all fallen down ! oh, you poor 
 little thing !' 
 
 He did not tell me I was beautiful, but 
 his looks flattered me the more that his 
 tongue was reticent. My eyes, I knev/, 
 were something remarkable ; nurses and 
 maids from my earliest years having 
 worried me on the subject. My hair, dark
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. I 9 
 
 with glints of red, was at least rare In tint 
 and luxuriance. George Aucrustus looked 
 and looked, as if he would devour and 
 swallow me up — little hands, great eyes, 
 hair and all. 
 
 Then I was fair ! Sweet it was to be 
 taught that lesson. To be assured I had 
 so much to enrich the eyes, and captivate 
 the heart which should satisfy the love- 
 thirst that grew upon me : but this was not 
 the man. The more he pleaded the more 
 obstinately I put away the deep draught of 
 passion thus thrust upon me in the ugly 
 glass wherefrom I so coyly refused to sip. 
 Why did I so ? Woman seldom does re- 
 ject love that is true. He should have 
 persevered, and then he might have won 
 me, and enjoyed his fancy ; I might have 
 lived to content the world — if not myself 
 — a happy woman without a history, and 
 not now be tracinof these remorseful lines. 
 Again and again he pleaded with me, 
 ' Lily, I am afraid I cannot make you love 
 me,' and got no answer but — ' I cannot 
 tell ; I don't know — wait until I see you 
 again/ and, with that cold comfort, he 
 started for London, on business, I was told.
 
 20 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 I did not believe it, but gave way to a 
 horrible suspicion, which rose upon, me out 
 of some scattered phrases of his. It so 
 happened that some days before, a cele- 
 brated singer, Mrs. Forest, had made her 
 appearance at Stormouth, and I, being 
 myself an amateur musician of lofty aspira- 
 tions, made a point of hearing the famous 
 prima donna. As a woman she bore an 
 evil name, having made a conquest, on the 
 stage, of a poor lord who suffered her to 
 remain in the path of temptation until she 
 ran away with one of her professional 
 coadjutors, and, being divorced from her 
 noble husband, married him. The story 
 was noised that she was.no more faithful 
 to her present than to her former vows, and 
 certain it was that George Augustus was an 
 enthusiastic admirer of her beauty, both of 
 face and voice. The local Mrs. Grundy 
 was careful to make me aware of the fact 
 that his praises of Mrs. Forest were such 
 as a gentleman should not bestow on one 
 lady, while paying his addresses to 
 another. 
 
 A council upon my perversity was held 
 forthwith between Mrs. Mauleverer and
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. 21 
 
 my grandmother, and thereupon I was 
 strenuously urged by the latter to give my 
 reasons. Thus pushed, I gave conjectures 
 instead, to the effect that I was convinced 
 George Augustus had gone away on no 
 business, but some love affair — some objec- 
 tionable love affair — most likely Mrs. 
 Forest had to do with it. This I charged 
 grannie not to repeat after me, but she 
 did so at once to Mrs. Mauleverer, who, 
 shocked beyond measure, repeated to her 
 son, the next time he came down, every 
 word I had said. He, to make the case 
 worse, denied nothing, but laughed with 
 right good glee, and said, ' Is it too much 
 gallantry I am accused of ?' Horror of 
 horrors ! I had stumbled upon the truth, 
 though how I did so is as great an enigma 
 to myself as it was to the two lady mothers. 
 At my guilty adorer I could scarcely look 
 for very shame. Something else George 
 Augustus had done in London besides 
 make love where he should not ; he had 
 played and lost several thousand pounds, to 
 be promptly discharged as a debt of honor, 
 while legal difficulties hindered the raising 
 of the sum by mortgage of his estates.
 
 2 2 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 The result was, George Augustus must 
 have forthwith either my five thousand 
 pounds, or another woman's, in the honor- 
 able way of marriage, which could not, 
 therefore, be postponed. His mother had 
 found a girl answering all requirements for 
 his wife with four times the sum. So it 
 was put to me at once to say ' Yea or nay ; 
 and I still denied him during a nine hours' 
 siege, from three in the afternoon until two 
 hours past midnight — but 1 was new to the 
 world, and from such a manner of wooing 
 I revolted. All was vain, and he went 
 away sorrowful, to seek a more compjaint, 
 wealthier bride. 
 
 That was over, but not the conse- 
 quences ; my home had no longer the 
 negative merit of quiet. I had offended 
 against all family law, tradition and pre- 
 cedent, and baulked poor grannie of the 
 eager desire of her life, to see me married 
 early. I had had my chance, and thrown 
 it away, and never could such another be 
 looked for again, if I lived a hundred 
 years. To this Mrs. Grundy failed not 
 to chime in with a thousand ' aye, ayes,' 
 and added that I was dangerous moreover,
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. 23 
 
 a girl likely to do much mischief and no 
 good. 
 
 My old music-master's wife was among 
 the first to propound this view of my 
 adventure, provoked by her husband with 
 symptoms of something very like jealousy 
 on my account. One day, at my grand- 
 mother's request, I was preparing some 
 election streamers with Mr. Mauleverer's 
 colours — of course, when he was still a 
 bachelor. The couple surprised me at my 
 task, and while by the wife I was com- 
 mended therefore, the husband gave vent 
 to grumbles of disapprobation of my 
 making too much of the Whig candidate. 
 
 ' What has turned you politician all of a 
 sudden ?' shrewdly threw in the lady. ' I 
 never thought you had found out the 
 difference between Whig and Tory before.' 
 Then, turning to her husband, ' Perhaps 
 you think Miss Fortescue ought to choose 
 her husband by the color of his coat.' 
 
 Thus challenged, the organist's temper 
 broke into a discordant key. I too, much 
 disconcerted, let fall the compromising, 
 gaudy-coloured shreds and patches, which 
 he, snatching up, tore into smaller divisions
 
 24 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 iiung into the grate, and exclaimed ; ' What 
 does she want to marry for ? — whims of 
 women !' Two words comprised the wife's 
 comment on this outburst — ' Old fox !' she 
 cried, with the accompaniment of a box on 
 the ear such as sent the peccant organist 
 spinning round on his chair (an easy one 
 on castors), and knocked him against the 
 chimney-piece by the neat impetus of the 
 blow, the lady's hand being small for the 
 result she achieved. He bore it like a 
 lamb, and, without one word of justifica- 
 tion, lay quietly under the ' soft impeach- 
 ment' 
 
 Next time I had a singing lesson I was 
 made acquainted with my master's house- 
 hold tribulations in my behoof. His wife, 
 much displeased at his too great partiality 
 for me as his pet pupil, had put thereon the 
 most objectionable construction, scolding 
 him so perpetually as to give him no peace 
 by day or night. ' She's the same as a 
 daughter to you, but with a difference, Mr. 
 Nightingale — with a difference! Now, don't 
 you contradict me in that. If I were to die 
 to-morrow, you'd make her an offer next 
 day.' This he repeated to me with the
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. 25 
 
 comment that women's eyes have most 
 extraordinary powers of discernment ; and 
 at last, from being wrongfully suspected of 
 making love to me, and constantly pro- 
 voked by the false charge, he began to 
 make it true, to my great discomfort, the 
 more so that I was fond of the old man, 
 and had long valued his harmless pre- 
 dilection as rhe most pleasant friendship I 
 had yet known. I would have kept it 
 thus, had it been left to me ; but this, 
 jealousy crept in and forbade. 
 
 To aggravate the hardship, I had just 
 begun with him the study of a new opera, 
 on mastering which I had set my whole 
 heart, and a hard task I had to achieve my 
 object and keep my teacher in decorous 
 order. ' Quis custodes custodiet ?' was the 
 problem I had to solve, and did so with 
 tolerable harmony, considering the diffi- 
 culties. When my last lesson was over I 
 gave a loud sigh of relief, to which my 
 master responded with a queer little moan^ 
 and told me, though I sang with such 
 divine expression, he could tell I had got 
 no heart. 
 
 ' Why do you say that ?' I asked ; ' is it
 
 26 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 because I don't care about George 
 Mauleverer ?' 
 
 ' You don't care for any man on earth, 
 but you're the most cruel Httle coquette 
 aHve,' responded my censor. 
 
 ' Coquette ? Why am I a coquette ?' 
 
 ' You want to sing better than any girl 
 in England.' 
 
 ' Well, and suppose I do .'*' 
 
 ' Merely for the sake of entrapping more 
 victims — all female vanity. Your face 
 brightens up when you've produced a fine 
 note, as another's would when her lover 
 had kissed her.' 
 
 ' Oh, you malicious old thing !' 
 
 ' You've got no heart for an old man, 
 anyhow ; I know you don't care a pin 
 about me, except for what I can teach you.' 
 
 ' Oh, but I do.' 
 
 ' No, you don't. Why now, I've gone 
 through the whole of this part with you, 
 day after day, and after all my trouble I've 
 never had a kiss of you yet.' 
 
 ' Well, you may kiss my hand, if you 
 like.' He did so, rather elaborately, and, 
 saying, * I'm an old man, Miss Lily/ was 
 fain not to stop at that.
 
 SWEET SIXTEEN. 27 
 
 ' Oh, I can't allow you — indeed I can't, 
 after what you told me Mrs. Nightinorale 
 said, although I don't believe a word of it 
 of you.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Nightingale be blessed ! What 
 does she know about our business to- 
 gether ?' 
 
 ' Oh, but she thinks she does, and I 
 must not allow you.' 
 
 ' Ah, well, you're a singular being — no 
 feeling at all, no more than the keys of the 
 piano,' he murmured, dolefully ; then 
 added, ' Somebody will play upon you 
 some day ; I'm an old fool to love you, but 
 I do.' 
 
 ' Oh, but not in the way Mrs. Nightin- 
 oale thinks.' 
 
 ' Oh, women have sharp eyes. She 
 has ; but you — you won't see it, that's all.' 
 
 ' Why, what can I possibly do ? You've 
 got a wife already, you know.' 
 
 This was unanswerable, but he sulked 
 all the rest of the afternoon. 
 
 Mrs. Nightinorale was not blind to the 
 state of affairs, although 1 kept honorably 
 silent. I hold a lady bound to repel any 
 vagaries of fancy towards herselt on the
 
 28 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 part of another lady's husband, but not to 
 tell of him, it being- not to be expected 
 that a girl can go fighting her way through 
 the world ; if she cannot take care of 
 herself without becoming an apple of 
 discord between man and wife, I take it 
 she lacks either common sense or true 
 womanly dignity. Safe I was, except 
 from gossip, and this, whispering in my 
 grandmother's ear, brought my singing 
 lessons to an abrupt stop, in full crescendo 
 of progress in the art, to my intense morti- 
 fication. 
 
 I became sick and weary exceedingly of 
 the good town of Stormouth, where I was 
 not allowed to have a friend, where no 
 pursuit could be tolerated in a young lady 
 but the * weary, stale, flat, and unprofit- 
 able ' one of husband hunting, as many and 
 many an overbold spinster of the evil- 
 thinking locality had proved that chase to 
 be before my time.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE GOD OF MY IDOLATRY. 
 
 * However marr'd, of more than twice her years, 
 Seamed with an ancient sword-cut on the cheek, 
 And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her eyes 
 And loved him with that love which was her doom.' 
 
 Tennyson : Elaine. 
 
 Shortly after these annoyances, an inci- 
 dent befel to disturb the placidity of the 
 Stormouth regions, like a g.reat stone 
 thrown into a mill-pond, troubling muddy 
 waters that have been wont to stagnate in 
 peace and quietness : no less an event than 
 the arrival of my hero at the neighbouring 
 seat of the noble viscount who took his 
 title from the town, heralded by magnificent 
 preparations for balls, theatricals, fireworks, 
 and hubbub of every kind, to welcome the 
 great man whom 'all England delighted to
 
 30 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 honor,' as the worthy mayor stated in his 
 address, deHvered in new robes, made 
 expressly for the occasion, as were those of 
 the throng in silk and muslin, who did 
 their worst to make the man believe him- 
 self lord and master of all womankind, 
 having but to stoop to any one of the 
 many conquests thrust upon him. There 
 was to be a county ball in the town, to 
 which my grandmother and I, by right of 
 birth, had access, although we had never as 
 yet made the attempt to hold our own in 
 that respect among the local society. It 
 was to be my first appearance in the world, 
 and, grannie was confident, to result in a 
 blaze of triumph. She said I must be the 
 belle of the ball, and quash and put down, 
 by my presence and attractions, any 
 malicious attempts to keep me out of my 
 natural sphere by jealous women. Her 
 own case, when a girl, had been identical. 
 She was considered plain by her own sex, 
 certainly never acknowledged as a beauty 
 until the men cried her up as such ; and 
 now it was my time to meet the same good 
 fortune. 
 
 ' I cannot take you out like girls who
 
 THE GOD OF MY IDOLATRY. 3 I 
 
 have young mothers,' she said ; ' my day 
 is gone by for that, but I'll do all I can for 
 you, my love. This is your best chance ', 
 make the most of it. I shall make myself 
 known to the great man. He was a firm 
 friend of your father, and if he notices you, 
 it will make your position in the county ; 
 so, remember, between every dance you 
 must come back to me.' 
 
 There was little need for this last 
 caution, for, to my bitter surprise and 
 shame, I sat by the wall, dance after dance, 
 by my grandmother's side, unsought for by 
 any man. All the half-bred young men 
 about the town, whom at one time or 
 another I had snubbed, took their revenge 
 now, looked at me, and passed me by, 
 pretending not to see me, as I had done to 
 them in the street. Even Mr. Nightin- 
 gale's nephew, who would have liked to 
 dance with me, lacked pluck to single 
 himself out from the rest by offering the 
 attention. In noplace that I know of so 
 much as at a ball is the situation so 
 mastered by the very pettiest specimens 
 of the lords of creation. I saw obscure 
 squirelings and puny curates twirling about
 
 ^2 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 magnificent damsels of twice m))- propor- 
 tions, jogging- and butting out of all time 
 for want of knowing better, not, as of late 
 the fashion, because it is ' the thing ' to 
 dance in defiance of measure, a custom my 
 tuneful ear and deft feet could never 
 habituate themselves to. 
 
 One militia captain, whom I reckoned 
 among my few friends, being, though a 
 married man, a great dancer, contrived, 
 with surpassing skill and agility, to spin 
 round half a score of heavy matrons, one 
 after the other, the average circumference 
 of whose waists I calculated at four feet, 
 the diameter of the same being at least 
 sixteen inches, while their round, fat faces 
 beamed with delio^ht at the longr-unac- 
 customed gallantry. On poor me the 
 provoking captain never threw his eyes, 
 and I had to rest content perforce with the 
 cold comfort of knowing myself the best 
 dancer in the room, doomed to wall- 
 flowerdom at sixteen ! 
 
 Was it my dress that was in fault, or my 
 rebellious hair, that knew no pomade nor 
 curling iron to curb its clustering heaps ? 
 As |;o costume, I had done my best
 
 THE GOD OF MY IDOLATRY. ^;^ 
 
 according- to my lights : I was attired in 
 clouds of white gauze and blonde, draped 
 with a scarf from my native land, of the 
 ' woven air ' of Decca's looms — a stream of 
 gold and crimson, while roses of the like 
 colour formed a coronal round my head, 
 and a few diamonds sparkled on my neck 
 and bosom. I heard a whisper — ' eccen- 
 tric' — as I took my place in the room. It 
 was plain the women were against me as a 
 possible rival, the men quiescent through 
 worldly respect for the female leaders of 
 society. 
 
 I sat in silent though vile durance until 
 past one o'clock. I was sick to get away, 
 but our carriage was ordered at two, and it 
 would not do to make a noise and attract 
 any more observation than we could avoid. 
 For nearly three hours we had sat, no one 
 offering to take us into the supper room, 
 until we spontaneously made a move in. 
 that direction, when our deserted side of 
 the room made us more conspicuous in 
 remaining there than in a voyage of 
 discovery through the crowd. Borne 
 onward with the stream, my grandmother 
 first, we were parted in mid-current through 
 
 VOL. I. T,
 
 34 ^lY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 the obstacle of a doorway, where she stuck 
 between two ponderous dowagers, whose 
 equal rank forbade either to give way, 
 while together they could not shoot the 
 narrow passage without damaging each 
 other as well as any unlucky lighter craft 
 wedged in between ; while I, caught in the 
 increasing block behind, could by no means 
 render poor grannie any assistance. Un- 
 accustomed for many years to the crush of 
 a high -class mob, she cried to me in alarm, 
 and drew the general attention upon her 
 distress. It so chanced that the hero of 
 the night stood, surrounded by a bevy of 
 fair worshippers, a few steps from the 
 struggle, safe beyond, in smooth waters 
 beneath the reserved dais in the supper 
 room, sacred to the ladies patronesses. His 
 quick eye took in the situation, and almost 
 before they were aware, he slid cunningly 
 from amidst the female coil that hemmed 
 him in, and, in half a moment, extricated 
 the old lady from her trouble, without 
 offence to her oppressors, such masterful 
 good breeding and tact surrounded the 
 man. As she got through, I followed, 
 making a dart after her through the open-
 
 THE GOD OF MY IDOLATRY. 35 
 
 ing, and his eye fell upon me, standing by 
 her side. 
 
 ' Your daughter ?' he said, inquiringly. 
 
 ' My grandchild. I may say, my 
 daughter. The only child of my son, 
 who is dead ; you knew him — Colonel 
 Fortescue.' 
 
 ' Colonel Fortescue ! the most rising 
 man in India when he was killed! Then 
 you were his mother. How wonderful to 
 meet you like this ! Have I not seen you 
 before ?' 
 
 ' Yes. I kept house with my son in 
 London some years before his death. You 
 dined with us several times before you 
 were so great a hero as you are now ' — she 
 added, smiling, * I am not surprised that I 
 should have gone quite out of your 
 memory.' 
 
 ' I do remember .you then, one of the 
 finest women in London still : your fame 
 as a beauty only beginning to give place 
 to your son's as a soldier.' 
 
 ' We will not talk of my beauty now. 
 Age and grief have made a change — all, 
 all gone,' and she shook her head 
 mournfully.
 
 36 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' We cannot say that, who see you so 
 accompanied, though mademoiselle is not 
 in the least like you.* 
 
 * She is like her father.' 
 
 ' Yes, I see the resemblance — a face to 
 win upon one. She is pretty, very pretty ; 
 not a dazzling beauty though, like 
 yours.' 
 
 * Ah, I am an old woman, and a very 
 sorrowful one. She is all my beauty 
 now.' 
 
 * Well, you are happy in her. Is not 
 that so ?' He appealed to me. 
 
 I looked in his face to read my destiny 
 there before I made reply. Happy I had 
 not been hitherto, since I felt a woman's 
 heart throb into life beneath my scarce 
 budding breast ; but before me opened the 
 possibilities of Paradise, set within those 
 eyes of his, bent down upon me in their 
 tender hazel light, with a smile of inex- 
 pressible sweetness, such as in man or 
 woman I never saw before, so witching in 
 its modest sympathy. Though worn with 
 war, and, like Othello's, * declined in the 
 vale of years,' the lordly beauty of his face 
 and form was beyond comparison with any
 
 THE GOD OF MY IDOLATRY. 2>7 
 
 human being I had ever looked upon — or 
 so it seemed to me. 1 trembled, utterly 
 lost, and could not speak until I drew my 
 gaze from beneath the light that fascinated 
 me, not knowing what I did, but anyhow 
 I would not speak false to him. 
 
 ' I have never been happy,' I murmured, 
 hopelessly, ' since my father died ; he was 
 very fond of me. I do not expect to be 
 happy ever again.' 
 
 ' Not happy, you ? That would be folly. 
 I wish I were as happy as you — as young, 
 as bright, as gifted. Oh ! 1 am old and 
 worn out in comparison.' 
 
 * What matter, when you have saved 
 your country } saved us all ? 1 would give 
 my life to do as much.' 
 
 * Beautiful young enthusiast ! No ; keep 
 your life ; it will be very dear to somebody 
 some day.' 
 
 His rich voice fell with these last words; 
 it was clear and true as a beli, but deeper 
 than any metal could vibrate, softest in the 
 lower tones. ' 1 did not hear — I felt it thrill 
 through and through my veins, with an 
 indescribable eftect, such as the chords ot a 
 harp have upon me, but immeasurably
 
 38 MY ONLY I.OVP:. 
 
 Stronger. There was no longer any re- 
 sistance in me ; I had met my fate ; I gave 
 one little cry, ' Oh, shall I ever see you 
 again ?' 
 
 * I am not going away to-night for ever ; 
 I'll call to-morrow and pay my respects to 
 Mrs, Fortescue. We must have her quite 
 well after the shock to her nerves to- 
 night. You will go home soon ? You do 
 not care for dancing ?' 
 
 ' Not any more now,' I said, ashamed to 
 own I had not danced at all. He did not 
 dance and that was enoug-h. If he must 
 quit me for those women of rank, he v/ould 
 not dance with them ; therefore as he could 
 pay me no more attention, I was content to 
 go. It was a great and wonderful thing 
 that I should see him in our own house 
 to-morrow. 
 
 He did not keep his word so soon, but 
 redeemed it three days afterwards, when I 
 had given him up, as the only relief from 
 hour upon hour of suspense and anguish. 
 I was sitting with my harp in my embrace, 
 trying to sing away a little of my pain ; 
 my grandmother, too, after three days of 
 mortifying disappointment, declared we
 
 THE GOD OF MY IDOLATRY'. 39 
 
 were not of consequence enough for so great 
 a man to keep his promise to us, and, grow- 
 ing bitter at the sHght, forbade any more 
 preparation to receive him, so that when he 
 did come — no longer expected — she was 
 out of the way, and he surprised me alone. 
 It may well be imagined I lost all self- 
 possession, a girl so utterly unused to the 
 world thus taken at disadvantage. In a 
 moment he relieved my embarrassment, 
 saying— 
 
 ' Forgive me — I should not have stolen 
 in like a thief; I was listening to your 
 voice outside your window. I never heard 
 anything like it, in such a young creature 
 too ! What was it you sang ?' 
 
 Here I blushed anew, more overcome 
 than ever. The song was a love lament I 
 had read in an old book. The melody had 
 come to me in thinking of him ; I could 
 not tell him this : I dared not answer him. 
 
 * Can you show me the music ?' he in- 
 quired. ' These simple airs that go to the 
 heart are a great weakness of mine. You 
 sang it so feelingly ! Perhaps you have 
 not the music ?' 
 
 * I have not. I do not know that it is
 
 40 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 written ; I could not tell how it came to 
 me ; I have never learnt it.' 
 
 ' You composed it yourself, perhaps ?' 
 
 ' I don't know that I ever composed any- 
 thing^. Don't you say so, pray !' I pleaded, 
 with tingling cheeks, detected in my guilt. 
 
 ' Nay, 'tis your own, What a young 
 genius you are ! What a gift to make hap- 
 piness around you !' 
 
 ' I wish I could, but that is a fairy's 
 privilege, not a mortal's.' 
 
 * Well, you are a fairy ; you are not like 
 any girl I ever saw. I seem to see a wide 
 space dividing your home from the whole 
 world without. How can you be otherwise 
 than happy ?' 
 
 ' I should be happy if I could see you — 
 for half an hour once in every fortnight' 
 
 Too artlessly I made reply ; he smiled 
 tenderly, but with a little wonder mingling 
 with his content ; he perceived, what I 
 knew not yet, his conquest of me : I had 
 betrayed that secret, which, unasked, un- 
 sought, no woman ever gave up to man 
 and repented not. I was a fool. 
 
 Not such a fool, either, but that I had a 
 shadow of reason to disguise my folly ;
 
 THE GOD OF MY IDOLATRY. 4 1 
 
 my attraction for him was as strong as his 
 admiration was genuine and sincere ; had 
 it been otherwise, had my imagination only 
 been in fault, I had deserved no sympathy, 
 no, not even pity, to have yielded my 
 heart up for a few sweet words ! 
 
 ' You ought to come out in London,' 
 he went on; ' I come so seldom to this 
 part of the country ; but if we meet 
 seldom, we can correspond : I shall be so 
 proud of your friendship ! You will write 
 to me ?' 
 
 ' If you wish. You must make my 
 grandmother give me leave ; she has such 
 a horror of girls writing to gentlemen, but 
 to you, it is not the same as to anyone else." 
 
 ' My dear child, I am old enough to be 
 your father. Leila — is not that your name ? 
 may I call you Leila ? You don't want to 
 be Miss Fortescue to me ?' 
 
 ' Anything you like — anything in the 
 world. Is there any girl in England could 
 refuse you anything ?' I answered in ex- 
 tenuation, simple wax as I was in his 
 hands. 
 
 ' Then I shall call you Leila ; 'tis a 
 lovely name.'
 
 42 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' I have often been tormented about 
 it ; they say it has a strange, barbarian 
 sound.' 
 
 ' Do they ? the idiots !' 
 
 ' You have heard it before, being in 
 India ?' 
 
 ' Heard it ! who has not heard of Meig- 
 noun and Leila, the Romeo and Juhet of 
 the East ? I must translate the poem to 
 you some day ; 'twas that made Hafiz 
 famous — the oriental Byron.' 
 
 ' I am glad my name is Leila — 'twas my 
 mother's too.' 
 
 ' Leila — and what will you call me. 
 between ourselves ? I hate titles and 
 surnames among intimate friends.' 
 
 ' How do you wish me to call you ?' 
 
 He had all but said, 'My love;' he 
 checked himself, and thought before he 
 replied, ' I have three Christian names : 
 choose which you like best, and call me 
 that, when we are by ourselves together, 
 and when you write to me.' 
 
 He gave me three to choose from, 
 * Arthur ' was one ; being that he never 
 used in public, I seemed to like it best, as 
 it should be peculiar to me, sacred to our
 
 THE GOD OF MY IDOLATRY. 
 
 affection : 'twas a name familiar to me 
 from a child, being bred in the West 
 Country, the native soil of the hero-king, 
 the antitype of him I had now the great 
 happiness to love. I said, * As you wish 
 it — you shall be King Arthur to me.' 
 
 He took the gentle flattery as it came, 
 warm from my heart ; his name be hence- 
 forth Arthur to you, my reader, as to me. 
 I would not reveal to you who he was to 
 the world, telling you this * ower true' 
 story ; his identity you shall never know, 
 never guess, while calling him by that 
 other name, emblazoned in the world's 
 history, among the few in our days who 
 shall be added to the short roll-call of 
 England's greatest. Let not the faintest 
 shadow of a taint be cast on that, for any 
 poor sorrows of mine. My part is to bear 
 these in silence, for the sake of that where- 
 on I had set my pride. 
 
 All this being- concluded between us 
 before my grandmother entered on the 
 scene, upon her so doing, Arthur's manner 
 took an entire change to mere frank kind- 
 ness, such as a man of fine feeling, gentle 
 to all, will specially show to a woman
 
 44 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 advanced in years, and an old friend. 
 Her very dog, a spoiled pet, who hated 
 strangers, made advances to him, won 
 caresses from him, and from me deep envy. 
 Truly, he was kind and tender to every 
 living thing ; never could he be otherwise 
 to me, a young girl so fond of him. 
 
 He gave good reasons for his delay in 
 calling, being not altogether master of his 
 time with his host Lord Stormouth, and 
 inquired if we knew him ? A mortifying 
 question, as we did not, though all the 
 world did in our county. It was best to tell 
 the truth in the mildest form ; I had never 
 been ' out ' at all, and grandmother, after 
 twenty years' absence, returned to her own 
 county almost a stranger ; it was nobody's 
 business to set a girl like me in the place 
 to which by old descent 1 was entitled, 
 and less than this I would not accept from 
 society. I dared not quite say so much 
 before my grandmother, but I said enough 
 for him to divine what I wished to convey. 
 Taking in the whole situation, he addressed 
 himself to her, and said : 
 
 ' Your granddaughter would be an orna- 
 ment to any court, if she were known.
 
 THE GOD OF MY IDOLATRY. 45 
 
 London is the place where she would be 
 admired ; you intend to bring her out there, 
 do you not ?' 
 
 ' I am not rich enough to live in London 
 according to our station, as we did in my 
 son's time ; poor Leila is but a country 
 girl, I fear, for the rest of her life ; unless 
 she will marry a husband who will show 
 her off in town, which it is her own fault 
 she has not done already.' 
 
 He smiled delight and said : 
 
 ' Hard to please, eh ? You must not 
 blame her for that ; who should be, if she 
 were not ? The man will come !' and he 
 added, so low that I alone could hear, 
 ^the happiest man in the whole world.' 
 
 * Well, I hope so,' grannie said, ' in a 
 year or two, when she knows her own 
 mind a little better. I hear you have very 
 gay doings at Stormouth Park ; balls, and 
 what not ; private theatricals with lady 
 actresses — a new fashion come in since 
 my day ; it must be very curious to see 
 them.' 
 
 ' Not at all curious, as they do things 
 there ; they've got all the best men from 
 the officers' set at Plymouth, and a lady
 
 46 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 cleverer than any common-place profes- 
 sional, Lady Di Hope Trevor, General 
 Hope Trevor's wife ; a beautiful woman, 
 too.' 
 
 My curiosity was piqued ; perhaps a 
 different feeling stirred, to hear him praise 
 another woman's beauty. ' Indeed !' I 
 cried ; ' I would give anything in the world 
 to see them act.' 
 
 ' You have never been to any of the 
 Stormouth theatricals ?' 
 
 ' No, never; but I should so like to !' 
 
 'Well, you shall, then; I'll ask Lady 
 Stormouth. I can promise you an invita- 
 tion for Mrs. Fortescue and yourself. Next 
 Thursday evening you shall be there,' and 
 with this comfort he left me, bidding us 
 adieu.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MY DEAREST FOE. 
 
 And that was my first happy day ! I 
 loved not without some return, and that 
 love was enough for me ! I was more than 
 happy, I was satisfied. The hope to win 
 him, to be his wife, was far above my 
 humble passion ; those who lived about 
 him, his intimates, the men under his com- 
 mand, his servants, might be blest as the 
 angels in heaven ; his very dog I envied, 
 ay, even the inanimate things that formed 
 part of his daily life — as I might never do 
 — but he would cast into my bosom now 
 and again the sweet drops of comfort that 
 should make the taste of my young life 
 delicious for evermore ! 
 
 To none but my own heart would I
 
 48 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 confide the treasure of my secret joy, 
 
 although that my grandmother indulged in 
 
 was only second to it, and her hopes went 
 
 far beyond mine in outspoken exultation 
 
 at the prospect of so wonderful a conquest ; 
 
 she made sure that Arthur was struck 
 
 with me, that he would follow it up, like a 
 
 man of honour as he was, and that I should 
 
 be married to him. ' Of course, 'she added, 
 
 by way of precaution, after bringing before 
 
 my eyes a picture of such ecstasy as no 
 
 sprinkling of cool caution could allay ; * of 
 
 course, my child, you will not think of 
 
 caring seriously for the man until he makes 
 
 you an offer, as I have no doubt he will ; 
 
 but there's no way for a woman to lose a 
 
 man like fallino; in love with him. I know 
 
 you've been too sensibly brought up to be 
 
 capable of such mawkish folly ; but it makes 
 
 me sick to see what fools ofirls are that 
 
 way. You are very happy to have me to 
 
 warn you ; there is only one man in the 
 
 world a woman should love — her husband. 
 
 Now, there is such a person in the world^ 
 
 you know, as the man who is to be your 
 
 husband, and you do him wrong in caring 
 
 for anyone else ; and until you are actually
 
 MY DEAREST FOE. 49 
 
 married, you never can tell what may 
 happen, so you must not fall in love until 
 after you are married, and then you may 
 do so as much as ever you like.' 
 
 Very prudent, truly; only on these terms, 
 I should have preferred never to marry, 
 but to love only, without hope or aspiration 
 beyond love itself. 
 
 In due course arrived the promised 
 invitation from Lady Stormouth, but it 
 was not as we expected it, nor what my 
 grandmother quite liked ; at first, indeed, 
 she refused to go on such terms. The list, 
 it stated, was full ; every place would be 
 occupied in the room where the perfor- 
 mance was arranged to take place ; the 
 only seats remaining at Lady Stormouth's 
 disposal were in the gallery above at the 
 end of the room, and two of these were 
 placed at Mrs. Fortescue's choice. It was 
 a charity performance : guinea tickets to 
 the room ; half guinea to the gallery. 
 
 'Well,' said grannie, taking her stand 
 upon her ruffled dignity, 'that's one way 
 of inviting people to your house, and a new 
 device for doing charity ; I suppose Lady 
 Stormouth thinks I care to pay a guinea 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 for the honor of getting inside her doors ; 
 and to the gallery, too ! I have been re- 
 ceived as an equal at the houses of earls 
 older in creation than her husband, whose 
 father got his title from that Whig king, 
 William IV. ; the idea of making a first 
 and second class for your guests! I'll go 
 in the first, or not at all.' 
 
 ' But it is merely a case of overcrowd" 
 ing,' I pleaded. ' I have set my heart so 
 on going ! I would not miss it for all the 
 world. Do, grannie darling, let me have 
 my way for only this once, and I'll promise 
 never, never to ask anything you do not 
 wish again.' 
 
 ' I was a beauty in my time,' urged the 
 old lady, ' a far greater beauty than any 
 you saw that night at the ball, or than you 
 will ever be — there's no vanity in saying 
 :so now ; it's all gone by ; I was admired, 
 followed by men, hated and envied by 
 women, almost worshipped by the world ; 
 and now, in my old age, to humor a little 
 chit, I'm to sit in the back kitchen to my 
 lady's parlour ; oh no, oh no, at half 
 a guinea a seat !' and she burst into a 
 peal of scornful laughter. ' I'll write to
 
 MY DEAREST FOE. 5 1 
 
 Lady Stormouth that I disdain the privi- 
 lege.' 
 
 * Don't make an enemy of her, for my 
 sake ; consider, they are Ids intimate 
 friends, both Lord and Lady Stormouth. 
 Arthur is staying at their house ; if you 
 insult them, he can hardly visit us any 
 more.' 
 
 ' Well, there's something in that, cer- 
 tainly, but he ought to take our side ; he 
 ought to protect you from such a slight ; 
 it is an affront to himself.' 
 
 ' Let us wait : he may not know. Why 
 not send two guineas to Lady Stormouth 
 and say, if she can give any extra seats, 
 you will take them at that price, but not 
 otherwise, for the benefit of the charity. 
 Would not this be the most dignified way, 
 not to see the affront at all, but show her 
 we do not care about her ?' 
 
 ' Well, I don't approve of it ; and I 
 won't write it. Do you, if you like ; but 
 remember, unless Lady Stormouth sends 
 tickets for the room, not the upper gallery, 
 I don't go, nor you either.' 
 
 And so the matter was made up. I 
 sent the two guineas and note on my grand- 
 
 4—2
 
 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 mother's behalf, with our urgent request 
 that such tickets might be sent as she 
 could make use of, not in the gallery ; but 
 in any case her subscription should re- 
 main to the charity. Tickets for the room 
 were sent in answer to this appeal. 
 
 We arrived early on the appointed 
 evening, and passing into the great room, 
 were duly saluted by Lady Stormouth, 
 standing as hostess, in the vestibule, where 
 every name was announced ; beyond this 
 no recognition was vouchsafed, except to 
 private friends, and to these, we found, all 
 the front rows of chairs were previously 
 assigned ; the general company of sub- 
 scribers being handed into seats at the 
 back. Arthur was nowhere to be seen 
 when we came in. Later on, he entered 
 by a side door with Lord Stormouth and 
 other gentlemen staying at the house, and 
 who rose from the dinner-table to attend 
 the play. 
 
 This was the first amateur performance 
 in a private mansion that I had ever wit- 
 nessed, although not altogether inex- 
 perienced as a playgoer, having been 
 several times to the theatre at Plymouth
 
 MY DEAREST FOE. 
 
 and Bristol ; once, at the former, I had 
 seen an officers' performance with regular 
 actresses as the ladies. Now, I expected 
 to see ladies act, and my impressions being 
 yet new, I prefer to supplement them by 
 the comments I overheard of a trio seated 
 in front of us ; they were a captain and 
 his wife, rather a young couple, sharp and 
 incisive, a thorough man and woman of 
 the world, lately established in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and admitted, like ourselves, as 
 spectators ; the third was a lady on a visit 
 to the house, in middle life, with a kindly 
 manner that attracted me, I took it into 
 my head she was a literary celebrity from 
 London. Of course, I caught none of 
 their names. 
 
 The captain and his wife were first 
 seated. On the lady afterwards joining 
 them, he said, ' We came at eight o'clock, 
 as we were bid, punctually ; I see you 
 know better ; of course, we shall have to 
 wait an unconscionable time.' 
 
 ' I hope not ; I heard everything was 
 read}' to begin.' 
 
 ' Everything but the actors ; amateurs 
 never are, never can be up to time, except
 
 54 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 officers. We did it in style at the Plymouth 
 theatre last time, but then we had regular 
 actresses from London. I wish we were 
 having them to-night.' 
 
 * My dear, you could not have actresses 
 in a private house !' remonstrated his 
 spouse. 
 
 ' Then you shouldn't have acting in a 
 private house, that's all ; amateur ladies 
 think about nothing but their dress, and 
 keeping people waiting two hours while 
 they are enjoying themselves in their 
 dressing-rooms ; and when they come on, 
 they can't speak up to be heard ; it doesn't 
 pay a fellow.' 
 
 * But the gentlemen have not left the 
 dining-room,' put in the London lady. 
 
 * Oh, it's good fun for them, is it? 
 Awfully jolly, no doubt. I didn't dine 
 here ; I had my dinner two hours earlier, 
 and drove over, because Lady Stormouth 
 sent me a circular, and my wife thought 
 we ought to take tickets ; I can't see it at 
 all.' 
 
 ' My dear, we came to see the great 
 hero, who is a guest in the house ; perhaps 
 you can get introduced to him. And
 
 MY DEAREST FOE. 55 
 
 Lady Diana Hope Trevor is to act. I 
 don't care how badly she does it : I would 
 not miss the sight on any account — not for 
 anything in the world.' 
 
 * She won't do it badly for an amateur ; 
 I hear she has been three months learning 
 the part, with Mrs. Gibber, a professional, 
 to coach her ; she repeats it all day long, 
 and keeps it up till two in the morning, till 
 the general puts out the lights and goes to 
 bed, because he won't have the servants 
 stop up so late as she does.' 
 
 ' What a house he must have kept for 
 him, poor man !' 
 
 * You may say that, Nellie ; never you 
 take it into your head to act. If she were 
 my wife, I'd walk off and leave her spout- 
 ing — that's all.' 
 
 ' Her husband is very proud of her act- 
 ing,' interposed the London lady, ' and 
 most particular as to those she acts with, 
 and where she may appear.' 
 
 ' She played at the Haymarket last season 
 for a benefit,' said the captain. 
 
 ' Yes, the general gave his consent ; she 
 persuaded him, but he did not quite like 
 it. He is very proud of her talent.'
 
 56 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 * Prouder of her altogether than he has 
 good cause. I should see that plain enough 
 if I were Sir John, and put a stop to her 
 doings. Why, she's got herself invited 
 here on purpose to throw herself in his way 
 — you know whom I mean.' 
 
 ' Hush, not a word about that here,' said 
 the captain's lady. ' Look ! the hero !' 
 
 A stir in the room and general commo- 
 tion, as, the band playing the usual tune 
 on such occasions, the hero of the night 
 made his entrance, like a monarch in a 
 play, with his attendant lords and gentle- 
 men, and, with much ado on the part of 
 everybody interested, was set in his ap- 
 pointed place, a high vantage ground, 
 raised on steps, and canopied with Indian 
 spoils and military trophies. 
 
 ' Now they will begin, and I hope get it 
 over in time to give us some supper before 
 we set out on our long drive home,' 
 reasoned the captain's lady ; but an awful 
 delay ensued — twenty minutes at least — 
 before the prompter's loud whisper confided 
 the signal ' ready ' to the listening orchestra, 
 an interval not unfilled by the captain's 
 critical remarks.
 
 MY DEAREST FOE. 57 
 
 '"The Green Bushes,'" he read out 
 from the pink satin programme. ' What a 
 notion ! Madame Celeste's best part, the 
 only woman who ever could or should play 
 Miami.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Cibber says Lady Diana is the 
 best who ever tried it, after Madame 
 Celeste, who is now too old to look the 
 part,' said the London lady. 
 
 ' Mrs. Cibber says so, very likely, and so 
 she will say as long as my lady keeps her 
 purse strings open ; if Di Hope Trevor 
 were a poor woman who wanted to make her 
 living on the stage, Mrs. Cibber wouldn't 
 teach her on credit for the sake of her 
 chance.' 
 
 At last, as all things mortal o^et done 
 with some time, the curtain went up for the 
 first act, which was suffered with decent 
 equanimity by the patient audience, all 
 expectation for the sight of Lady Diana, 
 who did not appear till the second act. 
 They were rewarded by a good deal of fun 
 at the expense of the performers, the stage 
 being crammed with what the captain called 
 ' gentlemen supers, or superfine gentle- 
 men,' made up as Irish peasants, whom all
 
 58 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 the art of May and Clarkson could not 
 transform from their proper selves ; but 
 sundry wonderful effects of the ludicrous 
 were produced, which interfered in a most 
 comical manner with the efforts of the 
 principal characters. These last seemed 
 to me quite as good as I had seen on the 
 stage, but the captain (himself, I discovered, 
 an amateur actor) would see no good thing 
 in them. 
 
 Another long wait between the acts, 
 filled in, however, with music, and ices 
 handed round ; then a preliminary scene of 
 moderate dimensions at last ushered in the 
 chief attraction. A shot was heard, and 
 Lady Diana, in the habit of an Indian 
 huntress, fowling-piece on shoulder, in 
 shell-embroidered tunic and buskins, with 
 mocassins bound on her feet, an aigrette 
 surmounting her loose hair, and strange 
 bead ornaments, stood before the assembly, 
 a thing of beauty, whatever else she might 
 be. 1 thought I had never seen so magni- 
 ficent a piece of womanhood, out of canvas 
 or marble : a tall and beautiful form, of 
 which every outline was displayed, while 
 decency could scarce complain that not
 
 MY DEAREST FOE. 59 
 
 enough was hid. She was draped from 
 neck to knee ; except the Juno-Hke arms, 
 bare to the shoulder, her face and throat 
 alone were uncovered ; her colour only was 
 unlike the daughter of the wilds she 
 personated ; a skin of milk, with the tint 
 upon her cheek such as the damask rose 
 changes to before it dies, or the cloud re- 
 flects as a memory of the sun's last kisses 
 when his face has orone down. No mortal 
 limner ever caught that heavenly hue ! Her 
 grey eyes and dark-blonde tawny hair 
 were of true English breed, so were her 
 nose and upper lip, the perfection of aris- 
 tocratic race ; rarest of all, her hands and 
 feet were but a little less small than my 
 own, which I inherited from my high caste 
 Indian mother, and had never yet seen 
 matched by a European. 
 
 How old was she ? Involuntarily I 
 caught myself weighing that capital ques- 
 tion as to the value of a woman's charms. 
 As I had once heard a lady say, beauty 
 was useless without youth, and youth with- 
 out beauty. Surely she was much older 
 than I myself; tw^enty-ei.i^ht, I should think, 
 perhaps thirty. Certainly she could not be
 
 ■6o MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 much more than that. I was fated^, to en- 
 Hghtenmerit by the captain — ' What a 
 splendid make up ! She looks quite a young 
 woman.' 
 
 His wife put up her opera-glass — 
 ' Wonderful ! lots of white paint, of course ; 
 but that color's natural, and that hair is 
 all her own. Well, I call that wearing 
 splendidly, for a woman going on for fifty.' 
 
 ' I don't believe she can be forty,' said 
 the London lady, taking a look through 
 the glass. 
 
 ' My dear ! she was nearly forty when I 
 was a child.' 
 
 ' A very fine woman of a little over 
 forty,' the captain settled it. ' Well, she 
 could wear anything, or nothing, and look 
 *' fetching ; " and that's about what she can 
 do on the stage.' 
 
 ' She is a born actress,' said the London 
 lady. 
 
 ' Yes, but not a bred one ; can't move on 
 the stage — that's the test ; no idea of an 
 exit to music, can't play a part that depends 
 so much on pantomimic action. I grant 
 she speaks her words.' 
 
 ' She is not like a trained actress, but a
 
 MY DEAREST FOE. 6 1 
 
 woman in the same situation, with the same 
 passion, would do the same thini^s she does 
 acting ; it may not be art, but it is true to 
 nature.' 
 
 ' Art is not mere nature, nor ever can 
 be.' 
 
 ' I know it ; but this woman carries 
 away my feelings — I am moved, whether I 
 approve or not.' 
 
 And so was I, and so were the most 
 part of those five or six hundred spectators, 
 too many to form a clique, and, therefore, 
 more honest than critics or friends. The 
 emotion crept through that cold, fashion- 
 able gathering, and stirred the very heart 
 of the less sophisticated middle-class who 
 packed the gallery. The quasi public, like 
 a real public, were just, and the second act 
 brought loud and long applause. 
 
 'And now,' said the captain, ' Lady Di 
 is content to have the whole weight of the 
 last act resting on her shoulders ; she has 
 killed off the hero, at all events.' 
 
 * I can imagine a woman doing that in 
 the situation,' said the London lady, taking 
 the play au seiHeux. ' The Indian girl is 
 deceived and betrayed ; he had a wife in
 
 62 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 Ireland when he married her. Certainly 
 he deserves her revenge. It is very 
 natural in an Indian; an Enorlishwoman 
 could not shoot a man dead if she ever 
 loved him.' 
 
 ' I don't know that ; shouldn't like to be 
 the happy man in Lady Di's case. She's 
 the woman to do it ; she played that scene 
 right well. Next act she has to repent, 
 and follow her lover to the grave ; she 
 won't be quite so good.' 
 
 She was, though. I felt the hot tears 
 roll down my cheeks, and grew sick and 
 faint, as she pourtrayed, too life-like, the 
 agonies of lingering death. Then my eyes 
 wandered in another direction, away from 
 the stage and its occupants, to Arthur, 
 where he sat. Ophelia like, I was watch- 
 ing the effect of the play on him. Most 
 wonderful ! I saw his lofty brow bend 
 down, as it were, beneath the influence of 
 mighty magic ; the charm worked upon his 
 countenance ; eyebrow and lip were con- 
 tracted with strong pain, and struggled for 
 mastery with some emotion which the 
 proud man scorned to show. Here was a 
 revelation to me ! A power was in that fair
 
 MY DEAREST FOE. 6^ 
 
 woman to compel man's admiration by lier 
 acting, inartistic as it was — a power that 
 grew upon one in that last scene, where 
 she had but to die, and this she did with 
 harrowing truth and reality. No want of 
 familiarity with the stage could mar her 
 effect in that, where she had but to sink in 
 her chair and slowly, miserably, yet bravely 
 die ! It was too much for me to look upon 
 — no wonder it affected him to pain — but, 
 oh ! how I envied her the power to touch 
 his heart so near. 
 
 Not that I suspected him of any wrong. 
 I knew she was married, and doubted not 
 that I was safe from an actual rival in her ; 
 but the glory of her beauty and fame might 
 overpower the poor shadow in the dark 
 that crept around his feet in worship, not 
 daring to lift up eyes in hope upon one so 
 far above my sphere ! Oh, how I envied 
 her! 
 
 Did my gaze attract that of others upon 
 him ? So it seemed, for the spell ot my 
 meditation was broken by a hushed laugh, 
 and the half whispered undertones of the 
 captain's lady. ' Look at him now ! I 
 declare that's better than her acting ! I
 
 64 ^^y ONLY LOVE. 
 
 think he is caught in the toils. We shall 
 have some scenes enacted in a certain court 
 that will beat the excitement of this even- 
 ing. Ah, Lady Di, you're very pretty, but 
 you're very naughty, I'm afraid !' 
 
 * Don't believe it ; the fellow is too clever 
 to be caught, or too lucky to be found out,' 
 said the captain. ' A man can draw out of 
 these things, if he knows how.' 
 
 ' Oh, captain, speak for your own 
 experience, if you must, but don't throw 
 mud upon the greatest name in England : 
 'tis too unpatriotic — and besides — nobody 
 will believe you ; most certainly, if you 
 scandalise him, I shall never pay the least 
 attention to anything you say of anyone 
 again.' 
 
 So said the London lady, and put the 
 captain down. Happy she that could ! 
 There was nothing left for me to do here, 
 but shrink into myself and hurry home. 
 I was not known, not wanted ! 
 
 Disappointed and utterly disheartened, 
 I begged of my grandmother to come 
 away quickly. The crowd rose, and 
 pressed into the supper-room. At least, I 
 would not be thrust beneath his eye,
 
 MY DEAREST FOE. 
 
 unfriended and neglected by his world, that 
 knew me not ; but we had not the choice, 
 being obliged to move with the throng, and 
 were drawn into the supper-room, where 
 a sumptuous spread did honor to the 
 hospitality of the house, and was accepted 
 as a boon by the audience, after their four 
 hours' sitting, even though, not being over 
 much ' given with welcome/ ' the feast was 
 sold ' in Lady Macbeth's sense. 
 
 My grandmother was faint, and wanted 
 wine. I struggled to the table, and tried 
 to obtain it for her. Oh, crown of humili- 
 ation ! Arthur was looking at me! In a 
 moment I had shrunk into nothingness ; in 
 another, he had found me out, and stood 
 at my side ; he laid his hand upon my arm 
 so kindly — he helped me in my strait with 
 my grandmother, got us through to our 
 carriage, and handed us both in, but kept 
 my fingers in his clasp as he bade good- 
 night, with the wish of my heart granted in 
 a few words — ' I shall see you soon,' and 
 then he hurried back to the splendid scene ; 
 but I knew that she was nothing to him, 
 and that I — oh, Paradise on earth 1 what 
 might not be ? 
 
 VOL. I. i;
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AGAINST THE WORLD. 
 
 He kept his word, and quickly too. Twice 
 was I blest : that he came to me, and that 
 he came so soon ! Came he in love, or in 
 friendship, or in merest courtesy, I cared 
 not ; was it not enough to look upon him ? 
 to hear him speak to me ? But I was made 
 to feel by my grandmother that she 
 received him as my suitor, or had no 
 welcome for him. He was not to play the 
 angel on her Berlin broidered hearth-rug 
 with impunity for me ! 
 
 She had more reason than I, or it looked 
 very like it, though Arthur proved fully at 
 his ease, master of himself and the situa- 
 tion, whether he turned his conversation 
 to my grandmother or to me. He spoke
 
 AGAINST THE WORLD. 67 
 
 seriously, as seeking information, but in the 
 kindest way, as to our present position and 
 family surroundings, questions such as a 
 man of the world, however much in love, 
 likes to have satisfactorily answered, and 
 failinor this, often makes a merit to himself 
 of ' not being so far gone for a woman as 
 not to listen to reason.' Who we were, 
 and what we came from was all right. My 
 present place in the world, at least, was all 
 wrong, but so as to be remedied at once, by 
 an honorable man, whose love was true. 
 
 * I can understand Lady Stormouth not 
 going out of her way to find you out,' said 
 Arthur, on my grandmother's declaration 
 that she would never care for the honor 
 of entering Stormouth Park again ; ' she 
 has two sons whom she wants to see 
 married to two earls' daughters, of three 
 hundred years' creation at least, Stormouth 
 beinof rather a new title. Not but what a 
 Fortescue is better than many an earl, in 
 my opinion.' 
 
 * Better in our own, I hope, than to lay 
 traps for her ladyship's two fools of sons. 
 I am sure they are safe from us ; what do 
 you say to that, Lily ?' 
 
 5—2
 
 68 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 * I say she takes me for what I am not,' 
 said I, reddening ; ' but she has plenty to 
 do if she means to protect her sons from 
 half the girls in the county, who occupy 
 themselves in tuft hunting because they 
 have nothing else to do ; she may trust me 
 — I hate a crowd.' 
 
 * I saw the Honorable Hubert making 
 eyes at you, but he could find no one to 
 introduce him,' said Arthur, maliciously. 
 
 * Perhaps so, because I did not want 
 him ; I believe that's the way with 
 men.' 
 
 ' Ay, you've found that out already. Miss 
 Leila ; that's the way with women, we 
 may retort ; you find the pleasure is as 
 great of being hunted as to hunt. You've 
 heard of Galatea, who threw out the bait 
 in shape of an apple, and ran away, know- 
 inor her lover was sure to follow and catch 
 her in her hiding-place.' 
 
 ' The Honorable Hubert will not follow 
 me ; I'm not in his set, grannie says.' 
 
 ' You ought to be ; but women are so 
 unkind to each other ; they find you too 
 charming, too attractive ; if you were an 
 ordinary girl, you would be among the first
 
 AGAINST THE WORLD. 69 
 
 people in the county. Lady Augusta St. 
 Aubyn is your cousin, I believe ?' 
 
 ' Distantly connected,' said grandmother 
 stiffly. ' A younger son of our family 
 married the heiress of the title, early in 
 this century, and our estate followed the 
 male line. My son having no child but 
 Leila, they have the inheritance. But it 
 does not seem to have done much good 
 with them.' 
 
 ' I see, then, why there is a coldness. I 
 was speaking of you to Lady Augusta 
 yesterday, Leila, asking whether she knew 
 how exquisitely you sang, and would you 
 guess her answer ? *' There are too many 
 women who sing," she said, and so I would 
 not propose to introduce you.' 
 
 ' Quite right,' said grannie. 
 
 ' Tell her I said there are too many 
 women old maids,' I put in, wickedly, 
 
 ' Oh, you bitter creature ! there you 
 have poor Lady Augusta at your mercy. 
 She's safe to be Lady Augusta St. Aubyn 
 to the day of her death, and as proud of 
 her title and position as if she were 
 seventeen. Well, they're not worth your 
 voice, Leila, and less gifted people should
 
 70 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 beware how they tread on your dainty Httle 
 toes, that I see. But you have not told 
 me how you enjoyed Lady Diana Hope 
 Trevor's performance. What did you 
 think of it ?' 
 
 ' I think her the most beautiful woman 
 I ever saw.' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear you say that.' 
 
 * Why ? It is simply true.' 
 
 * Well, perhaps that is why ; but there 
 are a great many reasons more than I 
 could undertake to analyse. But I am 
 pleased to hear a girl like you say so. I 
 have always thought her beautiful.' 
 
 ' You have known her very long ?' 
 ' Oh ! years and years, in India. There 
 was not a girl came out there from England 
 in all my time that would be looked at 
 beside her. She drove half the men mad. 
 A fellow would gallop hundreds of miles to 
 a ball on the chance of Pfettingf a dance 
 with her. But there never was, never will 
 be, such another beauty under the sun.' 
 
 I was growing jealous. What could she 
 be to him ? I repeated his words — ' never 
 was, never will be, such another beauty 
 under the sun.' ' You think so, j'ozi- — ' 1
 
 AGAINST THE WORLD. 7 1 
 
 faltered. Arthur laughed away my blame 
 
 with — 
 
 ' Oh, she's passee now — three-and-forty. 
 I did not mean to put her in comparison 
 with young girls. In her own imperial 
 way she is superb.' 
 
 ' She looked wonderfully young that 
 night, and acted wonderfully.' 
 
 ' She is an enthusiast in acting, and 
 enthusiasm carries an audience or a breach 
 as nothing else can. You are an enthusiast, 
 my young Saint Cecilia — you did not see 
 the faults.' 
 
 ' Yes, I did, plenty of them ; you forget, 
 I am a trained singer, which helps me to 
 judge an artist in another line. Lady 
 Diana has a good speaking voice, but she 
 lets it fall when she should keep it up. 
 drops half her sentences, so that she could 
 not be heard where we sat ; catches her 
 breath with a gasp, as a singer is taught 
 not to do ; and then, the passages in a 
 speech are like the phrases of music, you 
 must know how to manag^e the changes 
 from one to another ; she does not. She 
 will give one part very well, and another 
 part very well, with something between 
 the two that spoils the effect.'
 
 MY ONLY LOVE, 
 
 ' I know what you mean ; she fails in the 
 transitions from one emotion to another ; 
 the most difficult thing in acting. Well, 
 that's her weakest point, except tripping on 
 her train, which sometimes happens to her 
 when she gets excited.' 
 
 ' I never thought of that. She carried 
 me out of myself; take her altogether, I 
 never saw such acting before.' 
 
 * You have not seen much. I can tell 
 you, they ran after her playing in India, 
 where we see no acting at all, except 
 amateurs' ; all the officers who can act 
 catch the infection. I used to be fond of 
 it myself, at one time.' 
 
 ' Did you ever act with her ?' 
 
 ' Sometimes — very long ago. I had to 
 give it up, when I had too much upon my 
 hands. Have you ever tried acting ?' 
 
 ' Not yet. I would give anything in the 
 world I could, if you — I should like to act 
 with you, I think I could/ said I, restrain- 
 ing myself. 
 
 ' Why should we not, if you like it ? I 
 will organise a performance with the officers ; 
 they did beg of me to join them, but I de- 
 clined. I will accept now, for your sake.
 
 AGAINST THE WORLD. 
 
 /J 
 
 What shall we play ? Do you like Des- 
 demona ?' 
 
 'Just what I should have chosen; but 
 how can I do it ? I have never stood 
 upon a stage, and everyone will know 
 me.' 
 
 ' Acting is not fit for young girls,' inter- 
 posed grannie ; ' you must wait till you are 
 married, Lily, and then it must depend 
 upon your husband. I cannot give my 
 consent to such a thing, except in a private 
 room ; you cannot act in public with the 
 officers.' 
 
 ' It shall be a private performance,' said 
 Arthur ; * we'll take the Assembly Room 
 here. You don't boast of a theatre in Stor- 
 mouth, and that's perhaps all the better. 
 We'll entertain the county better than a 
 ball.' 
 
 That was settled ; grannie, looking at it 
 m the light of a positive advance on 
 Arthur's part, withdrew her opposition to 
 what she did not quite approve. 
 
 'But I shall not know how to act. How 
 can I ?' I pleaded, nervously, wishing to 
 be overborne. 
 
 ' I will teach you,' said Arthur, gently.
 
 74 MY ONLY T,OVE. 
 
 ' Othello was once a favourite part of mine, 
 when I could get the chance to play it. A 
 great undertaking for amateurs, but we 
 have done it, and well too. We have 
 several good men here now, and I have 
 got the time, for a wonder. I'm stationary 
 at Stormouth Park for six weeks to 
 come.' 
 
 * You will teach me yourself?' 
 
 ' I'll ride over three or four times a week, 
 and rehearse with you. Learn your words 
 first.' 
 
 ' I have read the play so often, I shall 
 soon learn Desdemona ; but what lady will 
 be able to take Emilia ? Is not that a 
 difficult part ?' 
 
 * Very, but we'll find a way through the 
 difficulty ; I'll bring down Mrs. Heathcote 
 from town, and her husband shall be our 
 stage-manager ; they often play with the 
 officers.' 
 
 ' An actress !' exclaimed grannie ; * you 
 don't intend Leila to associate with an 
 actress ?' 
 
 'She is a most proper woman, several 
 ladies visit her ; and 'tis only what amateurs 
 always come to — a little professional help
 
 AGAINST THE WORLD. 75 
 
 sometimes. I don't know an amateur lady 
 who could play Emilia without making the 
 whole thing ridiculous, except Lady Di, if 
 she chose.' 
 
 ' And why can't Lady Di play it, if you 
 ask her }' inquired grannie. 
 
 ' I won't have Lady Di,' said Arthur, 
 determinately, and carried his point, as he 
 was bound to do ; there was a touch of 
 bitterness in his decision which, to my mind, 
 jarred somewhat harshly with his former 
 praise of the beautiful dilettante. I ques- 
 tioned him. 
 
 * Did Lady Di ever play Desdemona 
 with you ?' 
 
 ' Well, yes, she did on one occasion.' 
 
 ' And she would not play Emilia now, 
 with me as Desdemona ?' 
 
 ' I should not care to have her, that's just 
 about it. It is best that no other star 
 should twinkle too close to her sphere. 
 Have you seen the article in the Em- 
 press T 
 
 ' No. What was that ?' 
 
 ' I'll send you a copy, or bring you one 
 the day after to-morrow. We'll read Des- 
 demona through together.'
 
 76 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 With this he bade adieu, and during his 
 absence, prolonged to four days instead of 
 two, arrived the newspaper. The article 
 ran thus : 
 
 * On Wednesday, 24th, a splendid enter- 
 tainment took place at Stormouth Park, 
 Cornwall, the ancestral seat of the noble 
 Earl and Countess, the charitable object of 
 assisting the funds of the Stormouth Hos- 
 pital furnishing occasion for the most de- 
 lightful treat ever witnessed in the county, 
 the acting of Miami in the " Green Bushes" 
 by the most beautiful and accomplished 
 amateur actress in all England, the Lady 
 Diana Hope Trevor. It would be invi- 
 dious to draw comparisons with any actress 
 on the stage as an exponent of the part ; 
 but it is well known in critical circles that 
 Lady Diana ensures perfection in every 
 character she undertakes, by an amount of 
 assiduity unequalled by any other artist, on 
 or off the stage, and her personation, while 
 elaborately true to nature, gave evidence in 
 every sentence, as in every action, of the 
 careful training of the first of professional 
 instructresses. Further to describe details 
 would be in bad taste ; we will therefore
 
 AGAINST THE WORLD. 77 
 
 restrain our pen, only assuring our fair 
 leaders of fashion that they may well be 
 proud before the distinguished world of 
 artists and men of letters of the triumph 
 achieved by their queen, unparalleled 
 hitherto by any amateur actress, whether 
 we look at her own surpassing charms, or 
 the delight of all those favored by the 
 high privilege of being admitted among the 
 brilliant assembly where shone out, conspi- 
 cuous by his own fame, as well as by his 
 visible appreciation of the artistic banquet 
 
 displayed, the illustrious presence of ,' 
 
 here an enumeration of Arthur's qualities 
 and titles, in which the pen of the writer 
 ran raving mad, the name of the lady's hus- 
 band being brought in incidentally, quite 
 at the end of the rhapsody, by way of 
 propriety in the conclusion drawn, I 
 suppose, by the judicious critic. 
 
 Certainly this came as a token of remem- 
 brance, yet I should have been almost 
 better pleased had Arthur left me to think 
 my own thoughts undisturbed, until we met 
 again. Against all this prestige, how 
 should I stand the test of comparison in his 
 eyes, unless — unless their looks were other
 
 yS MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 than the world's ? I must try it by the 
 proof. 
 
 Oh, vanity of vanities of men ! But why 
 did he send it to me, to read such praises 
 of him as that ? He did not need them.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOPE DEFERRED. 
 
 Whether Arthur undertook his task for 
 mere love of acting, for the pleasure of 
 giving me pleasure, or for pure love of me, 
 is a problem I shall never solve; I know 
 that, as he taught me to play at making 
 love, he grew to me day after day ; we 
 were Othello and Desdemona in terrible 
 earnest. 
 
 ' I loved him for the dang-ers he had 
 passed, and he loved me that I did pity 
 them.' 
 
 Of course I had to learn every move- 
 ment of the staofe ' business,' as it is called • 
 grannie letting matters take their own 
 course, because she looked upon our love 
 making as no stage playing, but the frank
 
 8o MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 familiarity of an engaged couple with each 
 other ; once or twice she interrupted us, 
 and told Arthur he must not shock his 
 audience by carrying acting too far. ' We 
 are supposed to be married,' was Arthur's 
 excuse, and she took it as if it were a fact, 
 and, as my future husband, let him have 
 his way ; it would have needed much 
 prudery to be offended with that, so tender, 
 so delicately gentle, was the fond caress 
 that added eloquence to his words, 
 
 I was to sing in the last scene, where 
 Shakespeare gives a swan-like song of fare- 
 well to the young wife appointed to death. 
 What had I to do with her — I, who was 
 past all expressing happy in my new-born 
 love ? my expectation, Eden on earth with 
 him ! Yet a sweet sad melody came to me, 
 to sing in low recitative, wild and mournful 
 as despair could chant. It was beautiful, 
 he said, and would draw tears from a. stone, 
 and we wept together ; but these were 
 tears of exceeding joy ! Without words we 
 understood each other. 
 
 Shortly before the performance, we had 
 general rehearsals at the Assembly Rooms, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Heathcote presiding ; she
 
 HOPE DEFERRED. 8 1 
 
 had a good deal to do with me, as EmiHa, 
 and took me in hand, in her experienced 
 professional way, to advise me on various 
 matters ; my dressing and making up — ^of 
 the latter I of course knew nothinof — were 
 her especial charge ; also my general 
 carriage of myself through my forthcoming 
 ordeal ; Othello had no right to kiss me, 
 she said, being played by an amateur; 
 adding : ' I am sure he will not do it ; he 
 knows better than to draw remarks in front, 
 as you are not on the stage ; with us, it is 
 of no consequence, in the regular way of 
 business ; an actor does not want to kiss 
 you, especially when he sees you take no 
 notice of him, which is the best way ; I 
 have never known them to do anything 
 out of impertinence beyond mere ' stage 
 kissing;' but with private gentlemen, 'tis 
 another matter; they will do it in earnest, 
 if they have the chance. I should not like 
 to hear any of them boast he had kissed 
 Miss Fortescue ; you'll have to take care 
 of yourself if you act often. I wish you 
 had a mother to look after you ; I would 
 not be responsible for the charge of you on 
 any consideration in the world. I think 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 you would be very apt to get into 
 mischief.' 
 
 ' I shall be equal to the situation, never 
 fear, and obliged to you for putting me 
 •on my guard for another time ; but I am 
 safe with my Othello now — I know him.' 
 
 * You think you know him, bless the 
 child ! Then you know nothing about it. 
 You ask him who gave him that ring on 
 his little finger, that he never takes off. 
 Next time you have an opportunity, ask 
 him that.' 
 
 * What, that beautiful diamond ring ? A 
 present from some great person, no doubt ; 
 some Indian prince, perhaps : he has had 
 many presents.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! 'tis an English made rinof : 
 don't you know the difference from an 
 Indian one?' — I had forgotten that — 'a 
 ring to fit a lady's finger, but not so tiny as 
 yours. What little fingers you have, and, 
 oh, what nails, thin as tissue paper I No 
 wonder you have them break,' and she 
 burst out laughing at my hand, as it lay 
 under examination in the middle of one of 
 her broad palms. She had given me 
 something to think about
 
 HOPE DEFERRED. 83 
 
 The next opportunity I had with Arthur 
 alone, I put forth all my cunning to ascer- 
 tain what I was ashamed to question him 
 upon, the history of that ring I had often 
 admired, but now could have torn off his 
 little finger, and, like Harry Hotspur's 
 wife, broken his little finger too. My 
 device was to draw his attention to a rine 
 I wore on my wedding finger ; it had been 
 my mother's, an Indian ruby set with 
 pearls. As he held my hand looking at it, 
 I bade him take it off and try it on his 
 own. He obeyed, and it stuck at the first 
 joint. 
 
 * It's too small for you.' I said. 
 ' Rather.' 
 
 I laughed at my own little trick, and 
 fixing my eyes on the obnoxious diamond 
 beneath — 
 
 ' Try yours on me,' I said. ' On my 
 third finger, I think it would just fall off.' 
 
 * Not there — that's the engaged finger ; 
 it would be unlucky. Not that ring.' 
 
 ' Try it on any finger you like, then. I 
 want to see the diamond.' 
 
 ' What a child ! can't you see it on my 
 hand ?' 
 
 6—2
 
 84 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' I don't like to see it on your hand. I 
 hate to see it — why won't you take it off ?' 
 
 His brow darkened. 
 
 ' Some one has been talking to you about 
 that ring, Leila. Who was it ?' 
 
 ' I'll tell you if you'll take it off.' 
 
 'Well, I will then. There, 'tis off now. 
 Who spoke to you about it ?' 
 
 ' Mrs. Heathcote told me some lady 
 gave it you.' 
 
 ' The woman's a fool to speak to you of 
 such a things. She knows nothing about 
 it.' 
 
 ' But it 7uas a lady gave it you ?' 
 
 ' As you ask me, Leila, it was. I will 
 not tell you anything but the truth. It 
 would be no use, for you would not believe 
 me,' 
 
 ' A lady gave it you, and you will not 
 allow me to put it on. I hope there was 
 nothing wrong in her giving it to you.' 
 
 ' Nothing but what was honorable.' 
 
 ' Then why must not I put it on ?' 
 
 ' Because I promised that no one should 
 except myself.' 
 
 ' That was a strange promise. Are you 
 engaged to the lady ?'
 
 hopp: deferred. 85 
 
 ' Leila, how can you think such a thing 
 
 of me ? Certainly not' 
 
 ' Perhaps she is a married woman.' 
 
 ' What put that into your head ?' 
 
 ' Do you flirt with married women ? 
 
 They say men are fond of flirting with 
 
 married women.' 
 
 ' Married women are fond of flirting with 
 
 men sometimes.' 
 
 ' Do you make love to them ?' 
 
 ' You should blame your own sex if we 
 
 do, Leila ; no man, sitting at another man's 
 
 table, would dare to make an advance to 
 
 his friend's wife, unless he saw the way 
 
 open to draw him on ; it is the woman who 
 
 tempts us astray.' 
 
 ' But you- — you would not let yourself be 
 
 tempted ?' 
 
 ' I am not better than others.' 
 
 ' I think you are, much better, as I 
 
 know you are much greater than any other 
 
 man.' 
 
 ' Don't you know, Leila, if a beautiful 
 
 woman loves a man, the best of us is in 
 
 her power ?" 
 
 'No, no ; you are too honorable for 
 
 that. I never thought of your doing any-
 
 86 MV ONLY LOVE. 
 
 thing wrong, or capable of it ; if I had I 
 could not trust you as I do.' 
 
 ' Trust me for ever and ever, you, Leila, 
 in the innocence of your heart ; you under- 
 stand nothing of these things — it would be 
 a profanation to attempt to explain them 
 to you. A pure, unmarried girl can 
 attract no affection but what is honorable ; 
 it is different with a married woman ; she 
 knows what she is doing, but in this case 
 of the ring, there was no harm ; I pledge 
 you my honor.' 
 
 ' Then can you tell me whose it was ?' 
 
 ' I cannot.' 
 
 ' And why ? if I do not offend you by 
 asking.' 
 
 ' Well, Leila, if you must know, it was 
 or seemed to be a love-affair on her part. 
 I thought so, and that if she so wished, it 
 was not the man's place to hold back ; not 
 that I really cared for her, but we had been 
 fond of one another when we were young. 
 However, she was good, and I was very 
 glad that she repulsed me.' 
 
 ' But she gave you her ring. Why ?' 
 
 ' She would wish me to marry her if her 
 husband died.'
 
 HOPE DEFERRED. 8/ 
 
 * Oh, Arthur !' 
 
 ' But I would never do that. I could 
 not like her enough to marry her.' 
 
 ' She believes that you would.' 
 
 ' If she does I cannot help it.' 
 
 ' And if her husband dies ?' 
 
 ' That's very unlikely ; he is a strong 
 man for his age ; a better life than I am.' 
 
 ' But if he should die, what would you 
 do.?' 
 
 ' Keep out of her way. I would not 
 have her for my wife, after going so far as 
 she outrht not to have done.' 
 
 ' Your wife must be like Caesar's, with- 
 out suspicion.' 
 
 ' Just so, Leila, pure as virgin snow.' 
 
 ' Oh, men, men !' 
 
 ' Oh, women, women ! we might say. 
 Beware of your own sex, Leila. No man 
 will ever intend you harm ; but do you 
 know that when a woman is thoroughly 
 bad, she is ten thousand times worse than 
 any man ?' 
 
 ' It may be so. This one that gave you 
 the ring — did you make her any promise ? 
 Have you bound yourself to marry no one 
 else — to wait for her husband's death ?'
 
 MV ONLY LOVE. 
 
 * Leila, how could you imagine — a 
 woman that could do such a thing — have I 
 not told you I would never marry her ?' 
 
 ' But you have not told me you were not 
 bound to remain as you are — free.' 
 
 ' I am not, I could not be bound to any 
 such thing under the circumstances ; why, 
 she never was anything to me." 
 
 ' She was in love with you ; that is 
 everything to a woman.' 
 
 ' You know nothing about such things, 
 Leila ; you talk like a child.' 
 
 * I am no child ; I can feel like a 
 woman. If my heart were broken, I could 
 die.' 
 
 * God forbid, my dear child ; I am not 
 worthy of such an affection.' 
 
 ' I did not mean — I hope I have not said 
 what I ought not ;' I sobbed out pitifully. 
 
 ' You have said nothing, done nothing 
 but what I honor you for, my poor innocent 
 child ; it is I who am to blame.' 
 
 * Then you do not — care for me — at 
 all.' 
 
 ' I love you, darling ; you are the first 
 woman I have truly loved in all my life ; 
 but you are too young, too guileless, too
 
 HOPE DEFERRED. 89 
 
 angel like. It is I who am not worthy of 
 you.' 
 
 ' How can you say that ? you, the 
 greatest hero in the world ! it would be a 
 heaven on earth to die for you.' 
 
 ' My darling ! will you live for me then ? 
 will you take me as I am, with all my faults, 
 and never reproach me for the past that 
 cannot be recalled ? All we have to do, is 
 to make the best of the time to come.' 
 
 ' I will live and die for a few kind words 
 of yours ; I am your own to do what you 
 will with me.' 
 
 ' She trusts me without a doubt or fear ! 
 One day you shall know everything con- 
 cerning me.' 
 
 ' And her — you will tell me her 
 name ?' 
 
 ' No, never, Leila ; that is not my own 
 secret. You should not ask me to tell you 
 that ; it would not be honorable.' 
 
 ' I did not think of it that way. Forgive 
 me. Then that one secret must remain 
 between us for ever ?' 
 
 ' It must' 
 
 Had I not eyes ? Should I ever see him 
 and Diana Hope Trevor together, if it was
 
 90 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 she, I should need no tongue to tell me 
 so; if it was not she, most probably I 
 should never know who it was, and should 
 trouble myself the less, that it was not she ; 
 but that some woman had had him at her 
 feet was not without stings of jealousy for 
 me. 
 
 He pressed my hands most tenderly, and 
 kissed them, that was all. He did not 
 clasp me to his heart as he might have 
 done, but he looked at me ; that look was 
 enough, I was deeply blest beyond my 
 heart's desire, though I knew not, scarce 
 asked myself, whether we were engaged 
 or not.
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 MAKETH THE HEART SICK. 
 
 I LOOKED forward to the consummation of 
 my happiness, in our playing together as 
 Othello and Desdemona. My part so 
 entirely in tune with the emotions of my 
 heart, his giving him excuse for the fond 
 caresses so delicately forborne, and which I 
 knew, under pretext of acting, he would 
 steal upon me. An intrigue at the last 
 moment all but defeated my hopes ; of my 
 envied conquest I was not yet secure ! 
 
 As I have already hinted, I was allowed 
 to act upon condition that the performance 
 should be a private one. Cards of invita- 
 tion were printed in Arthur's name, and 
 duly sent to the local aristocracy ; a gallery 
 being set apart for dependants and humble
 
 92 MY ONLY LOYi:. 
 
 friends, with admission by another form of 
 ticket. Need I say the anxiety to be 
 invited of those who had not quite a claim 
 to the distinction was something quite 
 beyond the ordinary eagerness of country 
 folk to obtain tickets for any exclusive 
 county ball, or other entertainment, to 
 which money could help them, on charitable 
 grounds ? A means was found to supply 
 the demand in the present case, by some- 
 body (never discovered) purloining a couple 
 of dozen invitation cards out of a private 
 drawer of Arthur's. These were sold at a 
 guinea a piece, at a library in the town, con- 
 nected with the Assembly Rooms, and were 
 all eagerly bought up before the trick was 
 discovered by the sellers, who declared 
 they received them through the post, in 
 Arthur's own name, with instructions to 
 dispose of them for the benefit of the 
 County Hospital, to which institution the 
 money had been duly paid in. Arthur 
 was exceedingly annoyed, but said it would 
 be invidious now to disturb the matter, the 
 parties having evidently acted in good 
 faith, in consequence of a hoax performed 
 by some mischief-maker in the back-
 
 MAKETH THE HEART SICK. 93 
 
 t^round, who would only be gratified by 
 any scandal arising. 
 
 My old enemy, Airs. Grundy, took the 
 case up, and attacked my grandmother on 
 my account, the result being, I was for- 
 bidden to attend rehearsal the next day, 
 grannie declaring the talk of the people 
 would kill her if I did not give up the 
 performance. I was in agonies, and 
 actually went down on my knees to beg 
 that she would relent, but in vain. I could 
 not outrage her feelings, however inconsis- 
 tent and unreasoning, so I sent a note to 
 Arthur, by the maid who usually attended 
 me to rehearsal at the Assembly Rooms, 
 and informed him I had a difficult}^ with 
 my grandmother on account of the sale of 
 tickets ; that I hoped to get over it in a 
 day or two, and begged him, for this once, 
 to let Mrs. Heathcote read my part for 
 me. 
 
 After a day passed by me in misery, 
 dreading that all would be upset by my 
 enforced absence, Mrs. Heathcote, in 
 vehement agitation, rushed into the house 
 late in the afternoon. 
 
 * Do you mean to throw up your part ?'
 
 94 MV ONLY LOVE. 
 
 she exclaimed. ' Was that the meaning of 
 your note ? I say it was not. I read for 
 yon, my dear ; I allowed no one else to do 
 it. Lady Di was there with her husband, 
 to be sure, on pretence of asking for 
 another card for friends. I saw through 
 her at once.' 
 
 ' What did she do ?' I gasped, breath- 
 less. 
 
 ' Said Desdemona was her favourite part, 
 she could play it at an hour's notice. You 
 know this is the last rehearsal but one ; we 
 play the day after to-morrow ; she had the 
 dress ready, she said. She knew a girl 
 like you, who had never appeared before, 
 was sure to break down at the last. She 
 would show, if she were allowed, she said 
 to Arthur, what a great part Desdemona 
 was for one who could feel it. She would 
 prove what a depth of feeling and passion, 
 and so on, all the time we were rehears- 
 ino;.' 
 
 ' And did Arthur give way to her ?' 
 
 ' What could the poor man do ? He had 
 to show your note to account for your 
 absence; he was very nervous himself about 
 you. Lady Diana told him Mrs. Fortescue
 
 MAKETIl THE HEART SICK. 95 
 
 would never allow you to play, and gave 
 her great credit for her decision.' 
 
 ' Oh, Grannie, after giving me leave at 
 first ! I must play. Do you want to have 
 me die ? It would be better for me than to 
 be put down by such a trick.' 
 
 ' A trick, my dear, you've said it,' blurted 
 out iNIrs. Heathcote. ' Those cards were 
 stolen and sold on purpose to keep you 
 out of your chance. I mention no names, 
 mind ; it's all very clever, but they can't 
 hoodwink me. I know every plank on the 
 boards, amateur as well as professional, 
 bless you !' 
 
 Grandmother wavered, halting between 
 two opinions. Mrs. Heathcote plunged 
 in to the rescue. 
 
 * Do you want to see that child snuffed 
 out like a tallow candle by a woman with 
 a handle to her name ? Let her act ; 
 gracious goodness ! what's the hubbub 
 about a few tickets being sold for a charity ? 
 If it were the whole roomful it would be all 
 the better for her. Nothing like a paying- 
 audience ; save me from friends and paper ! 
 Let her act, in heaven's name, or the child 
 will break her heart.'
 
 g6 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 And so grannie yielded. Next day we 
 rehearsed in peace, but it was bitter to me 
 to think another, not Arthur, had taken 
 my part in my need. 
 
 The night came, and a splendid audience 
 packed the room from foot-lights to ceiling. 
 Music began, and I knew that within a 
 quarter of an hour I must face the ordeal 
 which, the first time, has so much of the 
 nature of hot ploughshares to the young- 
 aspirant's feet. 
 
 At the side between the wings I met 
 Arthur, beaming with approval at my 
 bridal attire. 
 
 * Desdemona,' he whispered, and took 
 my hand. It trembled fearfully ; I was 
 still suffering from the recent agitation I 
 had been put through. ' You are nervous ?' 
 he inquired — the way to make me so. 
 
 ' Not so much so that I cannot conquer it, 
 I trust,' was my answer, in low tones. 
 
 He took another alarm : ' Your voice — it 
 is not gone ?' 
 
 ' No, I am saving it for my trial ' — I 
 spoke half raising it, to show him there 
 was nothing to fear — 'trust me, I will 
 do my best — better than you have seen me 
 yet — you shall be proud of me.'
 
 MAKETH THE HEART SICK. 97 
 
 Success, darling !' he whispered, and we 
 parted as the curtain rose. He was to 
 come on the opposite side to me, and there 
 was scarce room, after the play began, to 
 cross the small make-shift stage. 
 
 I stood watching him, while he appeared, 
 the hero of the hour, before the expectant 
 audience. I drank in the cheers that 
 hailed him, prolonged for several minutes, 
 before he could speak a word, all my mind 
 and spirit, together with my eyes, were 
 drawn out towards him, until I lost all 
 thought for myself ; then something made 
 me grive a e^eat start : it was Mrs. Heath- 
 cote laying her arm on my shoulder, and 
 whispering in my ear : ' Don't mind him, 
 my dear, fancy he's only a stuffed man ; 
 mind nobody but yourself, and you'll do ; 
 if you please the public, you'll please him 
 well enough, so don't you get excited, 
 mind.' 
 
 I took the w^arning, and strove to put 
 away my very love from my heart. How 
 strange it all was ! so unlike the delight I 
 had anticipated. All sensation seemed to 
 leave me as I came on for my first scene. 
 How I orot throuoh it I have no recollec- 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 tion ; all I knew was, there rose a warm 
 sound of welcome for me, nnd a murmur of 
 praise after I spoke my words, and, in my 
 half consciousness, I was aware of him near 
 me. Then I became dimly sensible that I 
 was doing a hard thing ; coming short of 
 my own intentions ; I caught myself falling 
 into the very same faults I had censured in 
 Lady Diana. Thus I knew myself an 
 inexperienced actress, but I got through, 
 
 ' You are more nervous than you thought 
 you would be,' said Arthur, kindly, as he 
 took me off with him. ' Courage, dearest, 
 and you must have a great success.' 
 
 ' Speak up louder this next act — louder,' 
 said Mrs, Heathcote, as she came on with 
 me for the scene at Cyprus. The steady, 
 reliable actress was a great support to me 
 while we were on the stage together. 
 Arthur excepted, I never felt so safe with 
 the rest ; each seemed rather to act inde- 
 pendently for himself than to play to the 
 others, although they were all clever, and 
 well drilled for amateurs, 
 
 I had made the plunge, and the worst 
 was ever ; the enthusiasm of the audience 
 floated us on with the rising tide ; Othello
 
 MAKETH THE HEART SICK. 99- 
 
 and Desdemona meet ; the sweet words 
 melt like honey into my heart : 
 
 * If it were now to die 
 'Twere now to be most happy, for I fear 
 My soul hath her content so absolute 
 That not another comfort like to this 
 Succeeds in unknown fate.' 
 
 Then came the kiss, his first kiss, upon 
 my brow, another on my cheek ; it was 
 enough ; I felt then I could die even thus, 
 and ask no . more of joy beneath the sun. 
 It was fortunate I had not to speak 
 afterwards during that scene ; my power to 
 do so was quite gone. 
 
 The third act rose upon the audience 
 with the grandeur of a storm, sweeping 
 them off" their feet, as I heard one say. 
 Mrs. Heathcote, with her critical acumen, 
 remarked that Arthur's was the ' most 
 powerful, but most unequal performance of 
 Othello,' she had ever played to. 
 
 In the fourth act a most effective inci- 
 dent — not usually presented on the stage 
 — was restored, where Shakespeare makes 
 Othello fall into a trance, fainting under 
 lago's torturing stabs of jealousy ; and on 
 his recovery the 'demi-devil' sets him to
 
 ICO MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 listen while Cassio, speaking of another 
 woman, Bianca, appears by contrivance to 
 give conclusive testimony of Desdemona's 
 sin, finally, Bianca, entering, produces the 
 fatal handkerchief, and Othello, convinced 
 by eye and ear, rushes on to madness, and 
 murder of the thing he loves. Another 
 restoration was in the opening of the fifth 
 act, where instead of lying on my bed 
 before the curtain rose, I appeared with 
 Emilia unbinding my hair, arnd sang my 
 song as I prepared for sleep, the only op- 
 portunity I had for display of my best 
 talent — the gift of voice. Here I knew 
 beforehand I should achieve a triumph, and 
 I did it. With dying notes I glided into 
 my curtained alcove, and Othello entered 
 the chamber. Then every breath was 
 hushed, and he went on with the awful 
 scene. 
 
 It was over ; I was standing before the 
 footlights by Arthur's side, bending before 
 the crowd I dared not look upon, tasting of 
 the sweet breath of applause I had earned 
 so well — they told me I had, both Mrs. 
 Heathcote and Arthur, that my success, 
 with all drawbacks, was complete and un-
 
 MAKETH THE HEART SICK. lOt 
 
 questionable. I would not cross the stage ; 
 I shrank back out of sight, and left Arthur 
 to receive his honors alone : my eyes were 
 fixed upon him, and yet I perceived in an 
 opposite corner, where a kind of private 
 box had been erected, and from whence 
 only I could be seen, Lady Diana, 
 seated, with her eyes fixed upon me like 
 two gleaming daggers ; such a look of hate 
 and revenge I had never conceived in 
 imagination before. Was it my own success 
 she envied, or the share I took in Arthur's } 
 That was the question I wanted answered 
 now !
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TRUST ME ALL IN ALL. 
 
 That question I still felt reluctant to press 
 upon Arthur, fearing to displease him. 
 Some days later it arose of itself in an 
 unexpected form. 
 
 As we were at breakfast one morning, 
 Grannie and I, a newspaper came in by- 
 post addressed to me. It was the last 
 number of the Empress^ the same periodical 
 which gave Lady Diana such fulsome 
 adulation on her performance at Stormouth 
 Park. Surely this number contained some 
 notice of Othello on Arthur's account, per- 
 haps some flattering encouragement to me 
 as Desdemona ! Exulting in the thought, I 
 exclaimed to Grannie when I found the 
 article. Woe worth the day, as I read on !
 
 TRUST ME ALL IN ALL. IO3 
 
 Thus ran the critique : * On Tuesday 
 last an amateur performance of Othello was 
 given at Stormouth Assembly Rooms, 
 Cornwall, under the auspices of our great 
 national hero, who himself delighted the 
 local magnates and beau monde of the 
 county by his magnificent impersonation ot 
 the noble Moor, a character so much in 
 harmony with his own. A picked company 
 of distinguished amateurs from the corps 
 of officers stationed at Plymouth ably sup- 
 ported him ; valuable professional aid being 
 rendered by Mrs. Heathcote as Emilia, so 
 that (with one important exception) there 
 was a completeness as well as talent dis- 
 played such as is seldom to be met in a 
 performance arranged for one night only. 
 The principal exception, to which we must 
 allude, was in the part of Desdemona, 
 played in a manner so inefficient as sadly 
 to detract from the interest in every scene 
 where the heroine appeared, and seriously 
 to hamper the efforts of the gallant officer 
 in the opposite part. The young lady — 
 this was her only excuse — whose name we 
 forbear to mention, being one at least asso- 
 ciated with that of a noble family in Devon,
 
 I04 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 with which, we were informed, she is in no 
 way connected — the lady in herself pos- 
 sesses no one qualification of any kind for 
 the part she assumed, unless we may 
 except a stron^^ singing voice, such as we 
 have heard from itinerant ballad singers, 
 wholly without cultivation or control, but 
 which served as a pretext to drag in the 
 " Willow Song " by Desdemonain her night- 
 dress, long expunged by good taste from 
 the acting edition of Othello. It would be 
 hard to play Desdemona worse, or look it 
 worse, and we should hope the good sense 
 and taste of the lady's friends would 
 obviate, for her own sake, any repetition of 
 the display.' 
 
 I did not drop the paper ; I clutched it 
 fast. Nothing was left now but to conceal 
 it from Grannie, if I could, having im- 
 prudently roused her curiosity. But she 
 was too sharp to be hoodwinked by any 
 poor stratagem of mine. As I was trying 
 to tear the paper to pieces, she caught it 
 out of my hand with a strong grasp, and 
 read it all, uttering aloud, word by word, 
 the worst passages as she read, with a 
 cruelty of deliberation to thrust the knife
 
 TRUST ME ALL IN ALL. I05 
 
 home, and turn it round and round in the 
 gash, both to herself and me. 
 
 ' Now, Lily, that's the consequence of 
 not taking advice from me. I told you, I 
 begged of you, I knew you would be utterly 
 and irretrievably ruined ; no girl could ever 
 get over such a thing. But you would not 
 take my advice.' 
 
 Here was a grain of truth to make my 
 bread of humiliation bitter ! From a child 
 she had gently suffered me to ' gang my 
 ain gait ' in most things ; then, at the most 
 critical point of my life, she had spasmodi- 
 cally striven to rein me in, and failing to .do 
 so, if any ill came of it, on my shoulders 
 her blame would light ; worst of all, even 
 in her eyes, which had seen nothing but 
 what was to be praised in my first attempt, 
 enough of the mud thrown by the critic 
 seemed to stick upon me to turn my very 
 merits into newly discovered faults. What 
 could I expect from the rest of the world ? 
 
 ' To disgrace your family, your poor 
 father's memory !' she pursued. 
 
 * No,' I cried out ; ' this is done on 
 purpose ; a trick and a slander. I will 
 have it answered ; I shall appeal to Arthur ;
 
 J06 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 I know he will do me right. This is an 
 insult to him through me.' 
 
 ' Let him take it so, and protect you ; or 
 do you have done with him ; my son's 
 daughter must throw herself under no man's 
 feet to be made little of in this v/ay ; he must 
 right you, or you shall have done with him.' 
 
 ' I doubt not he will,' I said, assuming 
 confidence, though my heart misgave me 
 as to his standing up for me against Lady 
 Diana; my whole anxiety was bent to con- 
 ceal that cause of suspicion at least from 
 grandmother. 
 
 * He must be explicit — there must be an 
 engagement between you, understood and 
 acknowledged, or you must give him up ; 
 we are not to be made fools of. I will 
 speak to him plainly.' 
 
 * No I forbid it ; I implore you to do 
 nothing. Grannie ; I had rather never see 
 him again than be put to such shame ! 
 Leave it to me, for the mercy of God !' 
 
 ' Do as you will, then ; I wash my hands 
 of the business ; remember, I am warning 
 you in time ; you will have to give up that 
 man, after the disgrace he has brought 
 upon you.'
 
 TRUST ME ALL IN ALL. IO7 
 
 It was too true. What had I to do 
 with thrusting myself before the world in 
 the fierce light of his fame ? To be 
 humbled for the rest of my life, like a poor 
 burnt fly, dragged half dead out of the 
 hot wax of a candle ! A modern Semele 
 to a Jove with an unacknowledged but 
 malignant Juno to corrupt him to my 
 detriment ; another I no to be stung by all 
 the gadflies bred of Mrs. Grundy's tongue ! 
 I could not, I would not bear it ; I would 
 appeal to Arthur, who alone could lift me 
 out of my trouble ! Surely he would not 
 let my life be made hateful to me ? 
 
 I did so when he came, but he met me 
 coldly, and merely said it was best to take 
 no notice, it was not worth while ; they 
 had no right to criticise a private perform- 
 ance at all, and it was most impertinent ; 
 but, no names being mentioned, it was 
 best to treat it with silent contempt. I 
 had not much patience, I was vexed past 
 what little I had. 
 
 * Arthur,' I said, * is it not every word 
 of it utterly false ?' 
 
 ' I think so,' he said, smiling. ' Is not 
 that enough for you ? Never mind any-
 
 108 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 one ; you are charming ; they would not 
 have hit you so hard, only they thought 
 you too strong to be easily put down ; the 
 Empress is written by women ; so what 
 would you have ?' 
 
 ' Arthur, do you know what I believe ? 
 — shall believe all my life, unless you 
 prove to me the contrary — Lady Diana 
 got me this attack through jealousy — not 
 mere jealousy of my acting, I mean, but of 
 my playing with you. I believe she is 
 jealous — because of you. Is this true ?' 
 
 ' I do not think it likely.' 
 
 ' You deny it faintly. I do believe it is 
 true ; I know she wanted to thrust me out of 
 my part, and you — you nearly let her do it.' 
 
 ' Leila, you will make me really angry, 
 and I certainly shall not answer any such 
 questions ; any lady who shows me the 
 slightest favor is safe as to my respecting 
 her confidence. As a man of honor, what 
 else could I do ? Put yourself in the 
 situation.' 
 
 ' I could not be in the situation. She 
 is married.' 
 
 ' No, you could not ; but supposing such 
 a case with any woman ; say she had com-
 
 TRUST ME ALL IN ALL. IO9 
 
 mitted herself ever so little, or ever so 
 much, what must the man be to betray 
 her ? A man with any feeling would give 
 up his life, before he would speak a word 
 to injure her.' 
 
 ' Then I am not in your confidence ; 
 this suspicion must remain for ever like a 
 barrier between us ?' 
 
 ' Leila, beware of suspicion, if you 
 love.' 
 
 * Arthur, I believe that Lady Diana loves 
 you.' 
 
 ' You have no right to think so ; you 
 will give both yourself and me a great 
 and useless pain by imagining such a 
 thing.' 
 
 ' Will you give me your word of honor 
 there is no cause to think so ?' 
 
 'If you like, Leila; but under any cir- 
 cumstances I should feel bound to do that 
 to shield any woman from the unjust sup- 
 positions of another. Do not give way to 
 a censorious temper, Leila ; 1 never ex- 
 pected it from you.' 
 
 * You did not, and you say to me that 
 to screen a bad woman you would tell a 
 lie.'
 
 I lO MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' Well, I will put it to yourself : suppose 
 a man were put upon his word of honor 
 to tell the truth ; should he do so, if it 
 involved disgrace and ruin to a woman, 
 but to himself — well, much less than to 
 her — should he tell the truth and betray 
 her?' 
 
 ' No, but he could be silent' 
 
 * But if silence involved confession, 
 would it not in that case be a less crime to 
 deny the charge ?' 
 
 ' Well, perhaps it might be ; I am a bad 
 judge ; I do not understand this code of 
 honor — or dishonor ; women ought not to 
 do these things.' 
 
 ' They ought not ; but I will put it to an 
 extreme case : if a man were upon his oath 
 in court, is he not bound rather to perjure 
 himself than tell of a woman ?' 
 
 ' No ; no man can ever be bound to call 
 the name of God to witness a lie — not for 
 any woman should a man give up his 
 soul.' 
 
 ' Even this he should do rather than 
 give up a woman ; that is the act of a 
 coward.' 
 
 ' Then if a man should swear falsely to
 
 TRUST ME ALL IN ALL. I I I 
 
 screen a guilty woman, how could an 
 Innocent one falsely accused be cleared by 
 a man's oath ? You would have no pos- 
 sible redress for calumny.' 
 
 ' I did not think of that. I believe, 
 Leila, you are right. You are my better 
 angel !' 
 
 'Oh, I am nothing to you, I know.' 
 
 * You shall be everything to me one day. 
 I would to heaven that time were come ; 
 but I reproach myself often with having 
 gone so far ' 
 
 ' You wish to go back — to have done 
 with me ?' 
 
 ' No, darling, but I have fears that I 
 cannot banish — fears not selfish, on my own 
 account — fears for you, Leila.' 
 
 ' What do you fear for me ? What have 
 I to fear from anyone ? What do I care 
 for anyone but you ?' 
 
 ' Ay, but the world, Leila — that is 
 stronger than you or I either.' 
 
 ' Not unless you choose to make it so ; 
 you are my world,' 
 
 ' Leila, you are a child ; you little know 
 the power you set at defiance.' 
 
 ' 1 know, I believe that men are slaves
 
 112 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 to the world. What the world says of 
 them makes or mars their happiness. I 
 see now why you are changed to me.' 
 ' I am not changed to you, Leila.' 
 
 * Yes, because a malicious newspaper 
 writer chooses to cut me up, and a woman 
 of rank, a married woman ' 
 
 * Hush ! we will not talk about her, nor 
 think about her any more ; give it time. I 
 am going away in a few days ; I have many 
 things to alter in my life — dangers to pro- 
 vide against that might affect my whole 
 career — before I come back for a wife. I 
 can make you no promise, Leila, but I am 
 resolved that performance shall supply the 
 place. We must wait awhile, and trust 
 each other.' 
 
 ' If I could only have your confidence !' 
 
 * In everything that concerns myself, 
 you shall, darling ; all shall come right 
 between us some day. I should be worse 
 than a villain to mislead my sweet, inno- 
 cent girl.' 
 
 I was half contented, with no power to 
 complain ; my hands trembled beneath his 
 kisses ; more than that he asked not of me. 
 I could not tell at what moment I became
 
 TRUST ME ALL IN ALL. II3 
 
 aware that my grandmother was in the 
 room. ' Then you are engaged ?' she said, 
 half-aloud. Arthur turned round upon her 
 suddenly, releasing me. 
 
 * Mrs. Fortescue, it must not be so 
 understood.' 
 
 ' Sir, as an honorable man, with what 
 intentions are you playing with this 
 child ?' 
 
 ' My intentions are honorable ; you will 
 do us all the justice to assume they could 
 be no other ; but not matrimonial, for the 
 present. I do not intend to marry for 
 some years, and then, if I should be so 
 fortunate as again to meet Miss Fortescue 
 still free — but that is not likely ; she will 
 certainly have it in her power to choose 
 one nearer to her in years, and in every 
 way more suited to her. It is right that 
 she should be unfettered in her choice. 
 Leila must remain perfectly free.' 
 
 * That is plain enough to be thoroughly 
 understood. Good morning, sir.' She 
 curtsied, grasped my arm, and tottered out 
 of the room, dragfo^inor me alono^ with her. 
 ' Leila,' he cried, pleadingly, ' you will bid 
 me good-bye,' striving to reach my hand, 
 
 VOL. L f 8
 
 I 1 4 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 but she snatched it from him. I could not 
 have resised her will without restorting to 
 violence, from which I shrank. I had but 
 a look to give him ; but that look ! 
 
 We were parted, and he was gone. I 
 watched him until he was out of sight, and 
 saw him looking back, myself unseen, then 
 sat down to weep my fill — I stole back to 
 the room where I had left him, where 
 there was no one now to watch me as I 
 sank down in my passion of woe, hearing 
 nothing, feeling nothing, until he was there, 
 come back again to feast upon my humilia- 
 tion and weakness. Ah no ! he caught 
 me in his arms, and then — and then — he 
 tore himself away with one last kiss, and 
 the indescribable low murmur ' My own, 
 my own,' of a love that can be felt, not 
 told.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OR NOT AT ALL. 
 
 He would write to me, surely, I thought ; 
 he did not, though months went by, and a 
 rumor reached us that he was ere long 
 to fill a high post in India. As days went 
 on the chill of despair entered into my 
 heart. I felt as if all was over between 
 us. 
 
 Does a man reflect when he gives way 
 to his fancy for a young girl, not taking 
 thought at the time for the stronger motives 
 that must in the end sway him back from 
 his passing preference — does a man con- 
 sider how awfully he compromises her, if 
 not before the outer world, yet surely 
 with that small inner round of her nearest 
 relatives;, her home, her actual ^daily lite, 
 
 8 — 2
 
 Il6 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 where it is far worse to be pitied and 
 despised ? 1 did not show what I felt, 
 while my grandmother — having first bitterly 
 blamed me for what we had both tried 
 and failed in — sought to comfort me after 
 her fashion. ' It was a case that cured 
 itself,' she said ; ' the man evidently never 
 cared for you, and there's an end of it. 
 Of course, you don't care any more than he 
 did, being the daughter of a much greater 
 
 man — if your father had lived ' And so 
 
 the proud old lady reasoned on my feel- 
 ings as though they must be the same as 
 her own. 
 
 I thought sh'e wronged Arthur, that her 
 want of patience, if not mine, was to blame 
 for our defeat ; it was borne in upon me 
 with stronger conviction day by day, that 
 Arthur was fettered by some imbroglio 
 which he could not in a moment shake off, 
 that he was making efforts, only to be 
 effective with time, to work himself clear, 
 and through all, doing his best to act 
 honorably towards me. One thing I not 
 only believed but knew — he had loved 
 me. 
 
 I was expected to join in reprobation of
 
 OR NOT AT ALL. I I 7 
 
 him, to believe every impossible slander 
 that the good folk of Stormouth were not 
 slow to devise or circulate against him ; 
 such stories as crop up in the London 
 clubs concerning every great character 
 prominently set in the world's eye, and are 
 eagerly caught up and detailed (A'ith addi- 
 tions) by the envious and malicious, by 
 way of compensation to themselves for 
 their own inferiority of nature. Lady 
 Diana, it was said, and openly reported, 
 was in fact Arthur's mistress, had been so 
 for years, with the connivance of Sir John 
 Hope Trevor ; the two men finding it their 
 interest to keep close friends on political 
 grounds, the husband conveniently shut 
 his eyes to what he must know,, and the 
 couple were invited everywhere to meet 
 Arthur ; to festivities, public and private, 
 on visits to noblemen's houses — Stormouth 
 Park, to wit — society by general consent 
 blinking with complacent eyes at the 
 illustrious sinner, as well as at the frail wife 
 of a too easy husband. 
 
 Had they said but half as much I should 
 have believed more ; as it was I hated the 
 woman, but only trembled for Arthur.
 
 I I 8 MV ONLY LOVE. 
 
 Putting that and that together, the vile 
 conclusions drawn by slanderers, and the 
 facts known only to myself connected with 
 the ring — oh, how it stimg me to think he 
 wore that on his finger still ! — when all was 
 said, I did not believe it was a case of 
 guilt, although my instinct told me that 
 woman was keeping him from me. Nothing 
 could persuade me otherwise than that she 
 it was who gave and pledged him to wear 
 the ring, and if so, judging from his words 
 and actions, he lay within her danger 
 rather than within her power, and from 
 this would it not be the nobler part, with 
 my true, deep love, to strive for his rescue, 
 casting aside the fear of evil consequences 
 to me only ? 
 
 It was better that I should do anything 
 than calmly sit down and die, and let him 
 go to perdition body and soul through her, 
 my enemy. I knew he loved me. If I 
 could but see him I How ? He was in 
 London now, I far away, where he was not 
 likely to seek me out again ; alas, I felt 
 sure of that! In London, where I knew 
 not a human being — yes, one, out of his 
 sphere and mine, but a kindly soul he had
 
 OR NOT AT ALL. I 1 9 
 
 brought me in contact with, Mrs. Heathcote, 
 the actress. I had the will, I must find 
 the way, the means, the excuse for a short 
 absence from home. I must set my face 
 towards London, seek out Mrs. Heathcote, 
 ask her countenance and protection, for 
 want of better, make myself known to 
 Arthur, see him, speak to him but once, if 
 never to meet again in the course of our 
 lives. All this flashed upon me together 
 in one • moment ; it took many days of 
 wretchedness and hesitation before it orrew 
 into shape, and I was resolved how the 
 thing should be done, but then, never 
 wavering, I held to my purpose, and bore 
 it through. 
 
 There was no one I could take into my 
 confidence or ask to be a companion of my 
 journey. I must go alone, and this with- 
 out my grandmother's consent, which I 
 knew it would be useless to ask, but I 
 made every endeavor, in taking my own 
 course, to give her the least possible 
 pain. 
 
 I wrote a letter, to be found by her after I 
 was gone, in these words :
 
 I 20 MV ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' My dearest Grannie, 
 
 * I am leaving you for a short time, 
 for a reason that you shall know hereafter, 
 and, I trust, approve. Withhi a month at 
 farthest I shall either return, or if, for a 
 great object, my longer absence be required, 
 I shall tell you all and act no further with- 
 out your consent, which I implore of you 
 to forgive my doing now, and not to fret. 
 I shall take care of myself, as you have 
 taught me to do, and have plenty of money 
 to bring me back home, so do not trouble 
 about me. Grannie dear, it is all for the 
 best. 
 
 ' Your loving child,' 
 
 ' Leila Fortescue.' 
 
 This I folded, with many tears, and left 
 on a little table by her bed, where she was 
 sure to find it on awaking in the morning. 
 I had kissed her the night before, which I 
 seldom did, for she never encouraged my 
 caresses, and scarce seemed to know what 
 to think of such unwonted tenderness, but 
 my heart was full at parting with her ; 
 nothing could have driven me to so des- 
 perate a step, but the instinctive conviction
 
 OR NOT AT ALL. 121 
 
 that the worst I could possibly meet, being 
 up and doing, would be less terrible to me 
 than to sit still where I was and do nothing. 
 I had not told Grannie a single falsehood 
 to excuse myself. 
 
 Very early in the morning I arose and 
 dressed for my journey. I could take 
 nothing with me beyond what I could carry 
 on my arm ; money I had of my own, 
 sufficient, with prudence, to fear no ship- 
 wreck of my project on that score. 
 Unheard by anyone in the house, T un- 
 barred a window, and, slipping through 
 the garden, let myself out into the road, 
 and made my way in great haste to catch 
 an early train for London. I was in much 
 fear lest Grannie should wake before her 
 time, pursue me, and stop my journey ; if 
 she slept till half-past seven, her usual hour, 
 I should be miles away in the swift express, 
 before an alarm could be raised to inter- 
 cept my journey. Having no luggage to 
 detain me on my arrival, I could escape 
 from the station unnoticed, before any 
 telegraphic action could be made effectual 
 against me. Indeed, I do not believe poor 
 Grannie ever thought of that, though, in
 
 1 2 2 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 my guilty fear, I clung close by two young 
 ladies and their father, who travelled in the 
 next carriage to me, wishing to appear as 
 one of their party until I was able to lose 
 myself in the crowd. 
 
 It was evening after my long travel, yet 
 I did not dare to stop many minutes at 
 the Great Western Station, where, if any- 
 where, search was likely to be made for 
 me. Somehow, I was got into a cab, and 
 directed the man to leave me at a station 
 nearer the Strand, where I expected to lie 
 pei'due till the next morning, when I could 
 seek out Mrs. Heathcote. How I dreaded 
 that night alone in London, the first time 
 I ever set foot within the mighty and 
 terrible city ! I dared not face any hotel. 
 In the railway waiting-room, I felt as safe 
 as I could be anywhere, and it was nobody's 
 business to turn me out. 
 
 At eio;ht o'clock in the morninsf I took 
 a cup of tea and a bun, and having made 
 such slight sacrifices to the Graces as time 
 and place allowed, set out for the Strand, 
 in a cab as before, giving my directions to 
 be set down at the theatre where I knew 
 Mrs. Heathcote was a member of the com-
 
 OR NOT AT ALL. 1 23 
 
 pany. The man, after a long stare, whis- 
 pered, confidentially, ' Stage door, miss ?' 
 
 * Yes,' I replied quickly, and in fear of 
 being overheard by some one who might 
 report the fact to my disadvantage, having 
 evidently acquired a special interest in 
 cabby's eyes. 
 
 He set me down at the stage door, and 
 volunteered his assistance in callinsf out 
 the porter to meet me after I had paid 
 him. He waited, as if curious to learn the 
 result of the interview. The porter looked 
 at me very hard, evidently drawing con- 
 clusions to my disadvantage, as having no 
 business there at that unreasonable hour. 
 
 • Rehearsal at half-past ten, miss, if you go 
 on as hextra lady,' he said, pragmatically 
 pointing with his finger to a paper posted 
 up inside his door, whereon was written 
 the correct date of that day, the hour he 
 indicated, and the words, * Supers and 
 extra ladies ' — inexplicable to any sense of 
 mine. All I knew was, it was but nine 
 o'clock, and I was not wanted, and the 
 whole aspect of the place, from the dingy 
 little pocket hole, where the porter made 
 his peculiar retreat, to the dark recesses
 
 124 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 dimly perceptible beyond, was indescrib- 
 ably shocking- to my feelings. 
 
 ' I am a friend of Mrs. Heathcote's,' I 
 took heart of grace and said : * I am 
 just come to town, and want to call upon 
 her ; will you please give me her ad- 
 dress ?' 
 
 * We don't give no private addresses of 
 none of our ladies and gentlemen to nobody 
 on no account, nohow. Them's our rules 
 at this theatre, miss.' 
 
 * But I want to see Mrs, Heathcote. 
 What am I to do ?' 
 
 * If you'll come in the evening at half- 
 past six — she's sure to be here — I'll take 
 in your name to her dressing-room.' 
 
 ' What ! not before half-past six T 
 
 ' It may be just a chance that she'd look 
 in through the day for her letters. Will 
 you like to leave your name ?' 
 
 " Letters ! Then her letters come here, 
 although you will not give her address ? I 
 should like to leave a letter for her." 
 
 ' Oh, certainly, miss I You can write it 
 here, if you like. I'll give you what you 
 want.' 
 
 He did so. I wrote a hurried note, and
 
 OR NOT AT ALL. I 25 
 
 saw it placed in an alphabetical frame, hung 
 up on the wall, beneath the letter H. 
 
 I was in haste to return to the railway 
 station, to wait there until Mrs. Heathcote 
 should come to me, as my note begged 
 her to do. I felt out of place where I was, 
 liable to be mistaken for some inferior 
 employSe hanging about the theatre. What 
 would Arthur think of me, were he to pass 
 by and surprise me ? I shrank into a corner 
 at the bare idea. True, I had acted with 
 him, but with a difference, in an assembly 
 room, not a theatre, no such profane in- 
 stitution being tolerated at Stormouth, and 
 in such ideas had I been brought up : with 
 some inconsistency, I now threw mysel 
 upon the good-nature of an actress as my 
 only friend in need. 
 
 As I turned to take myself off, I was 
 confronted on the narrow threshold by a 
 face I knew. 
 
 ' Oh, our stage manager, miss," said the 
 porter. 
 
 ' You here, my dear ?' said Mr. Heath- 
 cote, recognising me, with much surprise. 
 But his style of address took me aback. 
 ' My dear,' by inveterate habit as a stage
 
 126 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 manager, came from him quite naturally, 
 but I fear made me blush at the awkward- 
 ness of my position. 
 
 ' I wanted to see Mrs. Heathcote,' I 
 said, constraining myself. 
 
 * Oh, my wife will be delighted. Go for 
 a cab, Tom. I'll stop here for you. A 
 private young lady we knew down in 
 Cornwall. Send her off to the wife ; they'll 
 understand each other.' 
 
 So it was settled, and under observation 
 of half a score of the ubiquitous ' boy ' 
 species, among whom I seemed to excite 
 a deep interest, I was handed into a cab 
 en route for Mrs, Heathcote's lodgfinofs. 
 
 -What a world's wonder she made of me ! 
 It was very painful to listen to her ex- 
 clamations of astonishment at every word 
 of explanation she drew from me. I 
 would not tell her the whole truth, and 
 she baulked at my half confidences, but 
 kindly agreed to all my requests. It was 
 arranged that I should have a room in the 
 same house with her, and the use of her 
 drawing-room for any visitors I wanted to 
 see, some such I said there were. I had 
 avoided mentioning- Arthur's narne.
 
 OR NOT AT ALL. I 2 7 
 
 ' And now,' she resumed, * I want you 
 to tell me what brought you up to London 
 all alone ? Is it a fit of stage fever ? — mad 
 to act ? Is that it ?' 
 
 ' Well, no, but could I have the chance 
 to act if I wished ?' 
 
 This was said half seriously. All else 
 failing, I might yet be glad of such a career 
 being open to me ; it would be better that 
 motive should be attributed to my flight 
 both by the Stormouth gossips and my 
 grandmother, anything to hide the truth 
 from them ! Mrs. Heathcote thought twice 
 before she answered me. 
 
 * Act — yes, I dare say you could be 
 taught to act. There's a grood deal of stuff 
 in you.' She eyed me as if taking measure 
 of my qualities. ' But you've everything 
 to learn. You were not such a bad Des- 
 demona for quite a novice, and after two 
 years' hard work you might do. But, bless 
 the child ! you'd be sick of it in two weeks! 
 And your singing voice would ba sure to 
 go — and such a pity !' 
 
 * My singing voice ?' 
 
 ' Yes, certain to be lost, " speaking up," 
 as we call it, destroys all your high notes 
 for sinorinor.'
 
 128 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' I did not knovv- 
 
 * Of course not, how should you know 
 anything about it ? My dear, if you want 
 to take to a profession, be a singer, nothing 
 else ; besides, it's much more respectable 
 than the stage. Very few of us can hold 
 the position we deserve. My lord some- 
 body's mistress is always stopping the way.' 
 
 ' Do bad women, then, please the public 
 best ?' 
 
 ' No, but they keep others out ag long 
 as they find the money to force themselves 
 down the throat of the public, and are not 
 found out. Ten years ago a leading 
 actress was supposed to be a woman of 
 character ; now the contrary is the rule 
 instead of the exception.' I shuddered. 
 ' There are not three actresses at our 
 theatre that Mr. Heathcote would admit 
 inside this house. We meet them in 
 business, that's all. Oh, you're quitfe safe 
 as a young girl under my wing.' 
 
 There needed no more bespattering of 
 her own nest ; the sight I had had of the 
 ' behind the scenes ' was sufficient to dis- 
 gust my fastidiousness. Neither would I 
 risk any hurt to my singing voice, which 1
 
 OR NOT AT ALL. 1 29 
 
 had already learnt to prize beyond all other 
 earthly possessions, as the lever that might 
 yet raise my little world into a higher 
 sphere, could I but find the proper vantage 
 point to work from ! 
 
 I had come, however, to find out Arthur 
 — to see him, to warn him — and with 
 nervous sensitiveness I shrunk from reveal- 
 ing my intent to any mortal ear, hard as I 
 found it, unaided and uncounselled, to 
 shape the way of our meeting. Unless I 
 made some endeavors to seek him out, I 
 might remain in London my life long un- 
 known to him. On the chance that we might 
 be brought together, without any palpable 
 effort of mine, I asked Mrs. Heathcote to 
 sit with me in the Park, morning or after- 
 noon, whenever she could, and there I 
 watched and waited, day after day, at least 
 for a distant sight of him. This was 
 denied me, though royalty, wealth, and 
 fashion spread all their glamours before 
 my young, impressionable eyes. To me the 
 sight was the most wonderful Ihadeverseen 
 or dreamed of out of a fairy tale. How I 
 smile on recalling my simplicity now ! At 
 first I was fascinated, then I sunk into the 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 MV ONLY LOVE. 
 
 deepest depression, crushed, as it were, in 
 spirit, by the sight of the great pageant of 
 the world's vanity, rolling and rolling on 
 without a thought or a look for the poor 
 mortality that lay beneath the chariot 
 wheels ; not a human being there that 
 knew me or that I could name, among 
 those thousands upon thousands ! Why 
 had I left my home ? I was a stranger 
 here. 
 
 A presentiment flashed upon me : might 
 I not one day conquer for myself a place 
 among that haughty throng ? A prouder 
 place than the accidents of birth and wealth 
 can confer by right ? might I not work my 
 own way up by dint of courage and perse- 
 verance, added to the gifts of genius I felt 
 were mine ? I had heard of such things, 
 how the talent which in a woman had been 
 looked upon as a clog and a hindrance in 
 obscure country life, in London became a 
 power in her weak hands, an instrument to 
 fortune and fame ! Yes, one day I would 
 make myself a name, through the rich 
 treasures that were in me of melody and 
 song ; and if this might be realized, why 
 not that other dearer hope ? To make my-
 
 OR NOT AT ALL. I3I 
 
 self worthy of my high-placed love, to be 
 accepted for my own merits, not by claim 
 of rank, to reach his side by a different 
 road to fame, to be lost in his greater light, 
 his love, his wife ! I must not dare to think 
 such thoughts, but bend my spirit to the 
 stern necessities that lay to my hand to 
 cope withal. 
 
 There was no other way, I must write 
 him a letter, ask him to come to me, un- 
 certain whether he would receive it, or, if he 
 did, when he would comply. I did not think 
 he could refuse me. I wrote and sent it to 
 his official address, with the words ' Private 
 and Personal ' by way of precaution against 
 the curiosity of profane clerks. Thus ran 
 my letter : 
 
 ' Having heard no word from you for 
 several months, I should not know, but for 
 the public mention of your name, whether 
 or not you were among the living. I know 
 not whether you care to hear that I am so 
 still, but even if not, I feel I owe a duty to 
 one so great of heart, who has once shown 
 me kindness, and that is to warn you for 
 your own sake of a danger that threatens
 
 132 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 you, through the malice of others. It is 
 such a matter as I could not write, but will 
 tell you all I know if you will see me for 
 once, here, where I am staying while in 
 London, with Mrs. Heathcote. Send a 
 line to. say when I may expect you, as in a 
 few days I shall return home, and after this 
 one interview I do not suppose that we 
 shall ever meet again ; none the less shall 
 I be, in memory of your former kindness, 
 for all my life your true friend, 
 
 ' Leila Fortescue.'
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE DESIRE ACCOMPLISHED. 
 
 I HAD kept the paper unblotted by any 
 tear of mine. My honor I would hold 
 safe, even though my life were wrung from 
 me in the bitter drops I wept, as hot blood 
 from my heart. 
 
 That secure, let the rest go ! 
 
 Not so ; I had won my hero to my 
 feet. 
 
 Need I tell how I watched and listened 
 for the postman on his round, as if my very 
 existence hung upon his approaching knock, 
 that passed and died away four times 
 every day, or worse, battered at the door 
 beneath on some other's behalf, but brought 
 nothing for me ? Two days passed thus, 
 till my strange absence of mind drew
 
 134 ^^"^^ ONLY LOVE. 
 
 remark from the few around me, and then, 
 late in the afternoon, unannounced and un- 
 expected, there was heard upon the stairs 
 a step I knew ; a knock at the drawing- 
 room door, ' Come in,' from my companion, 
 Mrs. Heathcote, and Arthur stood before 
 me. 
 
 ' I came the moment I received your 
 letter' he said ; ' I have been down at 
 Woolwich for two days ; I would not wait 
 to write and appoint an hour, I have 
 come on chance of finding you, and am 
 fortunate.' 
 
 I was much embarrassed at this dis- 
 covery to Mrs. Heathcote of my having 
 written to Arthur in the way I had done, 
 and could find neither explanation nor 
 reply. She at once took in the situation 
 in its general bearings, and good-naturedly 
 left the room. Arthur seemed in no hurry 
 to learn what I had to tell him ; he only 
 caressed my hand, and said he was happy 
 we met again. ' But this,' he added, ' is 
 not the way you ought to be in London. 
 Mrs. Heathcote is a very good woman 
 in her way, but you have friends, 
 surely ?'
 
 THE DESIRE ACCOJ/IPLISHED. 1 35 
 
 * None ill London/ I interrupted ; ' very 
 few anywhere.' 
 
 ' And why did you come to London ?' 
 
 ' If you will not think ill of me, I will 
 tell you all the truth.' 
 
 ' I could never think ill of you. Tell me, 
 Leila.' 
 
 ' I came alone, and unknown to my best 
 friend — my grandmother — for a short time 
 only ; I have promised to return in a few 
 days. I came away to — to try and see 
 you this once, for the sake of your own 
 honor and high name, because I could not 
 bear to listen any longer to the horrible 
 things I heard them say of you, and I 
 would sacrifice myself in any way to put an 
 end to the cause.' 
 
 ' The cause is very simple, Leila, but, I 
 am afraid, the harder to cure. Every man 
 with a name so much in the mouth of the 
 world as mine, must expect to have dirt 
 thrown upon his reputation. The less 
 you believe of it, Leila, the kinder to me 
 you will be, and, I hope, the nearer the 
 truth.' 
 
 ' But when one name is remarkably 
 mixed up with yours to the injury of both,
 
 12,6 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 why do you not avoid the world's sus- 
 picion ? Why are you for ever meeting 
 Lady Diana Hope Trevor, no matter where 
 you go ?' 
 
 His brow grew dark, and the shadow 
 of it fell upon my mind. ' Was she at 
 Woolwich while you were there ?' I asked. 
 
 ' She was. They had a ball, and could 
 not help inviting her, nor could I refuse to 
 go merely because she was there.' 
 
 ' You danced with her ?' 
 
 ' Yes, once.' 
 
 ' But you danced with no one else ?' 
 
 ' I was not expected to dance in general. 
 Really, Leila, this is silly of you.' 
 
 * Trifles, straws show the way of the 
 deepest current. When you met me at 
 Stormouth, at the ball, you did not ask. me 
 to dance.' 
 
 ' It would have made you too remarkable. 
 I never dance, scarcely.' 
 
 ' Except with Lady Diana ; you are not 
 afraid of makinof her remarkable.' 
 
 * I should not do so. All the world 
 knows we have been acquainted many 
 years, since she and I were young.' 
 
 I shuddered at something in his tone.
 
 THE DESIRE ACCOMPLISHED. 1 37 
 
 ' Since she and I were young ' — perhaps 
 lovers. 
 
 ' Leila, let there be no more of this 
 between iis. There is one way to end it 
 all, and to make me happier than I have 
 ever been in my life — with yon, Leila. I 
 do not yet see my course quite clear, but 
 time will brinof it straight. There are 
 reasons which I cannot explain to you yet, 
 why I could not present my wife at court, 
 or elsewhere in England for a time, but in 
 a few months I expect my appointment in 
 India, and once this is settled, the difficulty 
 can be smoothed down. Would you con- 
 sent to a secret marriage at once ? and 
 then I shall be sure of you as my own.' 
 
 It came upon me like a thunderbolt ; 
 sense and motion had been almost taken 
 away from me by the strong blow ot jo}\ 
 I did not answer him. 
 
 * Leila,' he whispered, ' you love me — 
 do you love me ? I know you do. There 
 is no other way but to be united now, 
 indissolubly. Once let this chance pass, and 
 we shall be separated — perhaps for ever. 
 You will consent to anything I wish ? Is 
 it not so, Leila ?'
 
 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' How can I deny you ? You know 
 well you can do with me anything you 
 will ; you will do nothing but what is 
 honorable : but what do you mean by 
 a secret marriage ? Will it be in a church ?' 
 
 ' In church or by a clergyman, what does 
 the place signify ?' 
 
 ' But my grandmother must know ; I 
 am under age ; we must have her con- 
 sent.' 
 
 ' I do not think that will be requisite.' 
 
 ' She would give it willingly, and keep 
 our secret.' 
 
 ' I had much rather she had it not to 
 keep, for your sake as much as my own. 
 Until I can take you away to India you 
 must remain with her as usual ; it is 
 best that she know nothing until 
 then.' 
 
 ' So 1 shall not write to her about it ?' 
 
 ' Not on any account.' 
 
 ' But Mrs. Heathcote, that I am 
 staying with, she will be sure to hnd 
 out ' 
 
 ' She must not — you must look to that ; 
 she of all others must not know that 1 am 
 anything to you but a friend.'
 
 THE DESIRE ACCOMPLISHED. 1 39 
 
 ' I cannot imagine how we can be married 
 so secretly as that.' 
 
 ' I cannot tell you at this moment ; 
 but I pledge my honor and my soul to find 
 a way.' 
 
 ' If I were to go home to my grand- 
 mother, you could follow me, and our 
 clergyman would make us safe, and never 
 tell a word to mortal, until the right 
 time came. I am sure he would, and 
 Grannie would be so happy !' I pleaded, 
 wavering in my hard attempt to meet his 
 will. 
 
 ' Leila, that is impossible ; w^hat you ask 
 is the same as if you required me to cut off 
 my sword arm on the eve of battle. The 
 story would ooze out and ruin me. No, 
 Leila, if you love me, we must be married 
 in the best way I can settle it here ; in a 
 few days you shall know how^ it can be 
 done, secretly and safely. I want you, 
 Leila, I cannot do without you now ; but if 
 you will not trust me so far as I ask of you, 
 I must.' 
 
 I trembled and felt subdued to his 
 purpose. Was he not my head, my lord, 
 the guide and protector of my life and
 
 140 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 honor ? to doubt of whom would be a 
 crime, a sacrilege ? 
 
 ' We shall be married, Leila, within a 
 week — you will not cross me again, my 
 own darling. I have enough — ' He broke 
 short, and was silent as to the rest. 
 
 'Anything — anything in the world you 
 ask me,' I murmured, incoherently. ' Your 
 own Leila I have been ever since the first 
 hour we met. You can take me,' 
 
 My voice broke into inarticulate sobs : I 
 was laid upon his breast, trembling with a 
 great and fearful joy : his lips were upon 
 my ear, whispering, ' My own love, kiss 
 me ; will you not ?' 
 
 I did not dare, though he had taken 
 many and many a kiss of me in those last 
 few moments. 
 
 ' Leila, you will kiss me as your 
 husband ?' 
 
 I li'fted my head a little and met those 
 dark, resistless eyes that swayed me as it 
 were my fate : he was smiling on my fear, 
 in the delight of his heart ; the fond, loving 
 smile, that brought back more than the 
 charm of youth into that grandly chiselled 
 face, almost divine in its tender beauty
 
 THE DESIRE ACCOMPLISHED. I4I 
 
 now. It was bending lower and lower 
 towards mine ; my soul rose to my lips 
 with a sharp cry, and a wild clasp of lifted 
 arms, as our lips met — oh, earth ! oh, life ! I 
 could have died in his embrace.
 
 
 
 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IS SWEET TO THE SOUL. 
 
 At last I had achieved my Q^reat happiness, 
 the triumph that could not be taken away 
 from me. I knew that nothing of what 
 was to come could go beyond what I felt 
 now : I had won it for myself by my true 
 love and self-devotion, like the young 
 Saracen maiden, who loved an English 
 warrior, her father's captive, gained him his 
 liberty, and then, when he had returned 
 home and forgotten her perhaps, followed 
 after him, alone and ignorant of his very 
 language, found her way with one word — 
 ' London ' — to the great city where he 
 lived, and wandering from street to street, 
 with one other word only on her lips, — his 
 name, 'Gilbert' — was found by him, and
 
 IS SWEET 10 THE SOUL. 1 43 
 
 became his wife, the mother of Thomas-k- 
 Beckett. How like to hers was now my 
 story ! 
 
 But, as Matilda-a-Beckett had to be 
 properly instructed and christened before 
 she sank her Oriental identity in that good 
 English title, so in my case there was a 
 host of preliminary obstacles to be got 
 over. Three different times did Arthur 
 come with a different plan to propose, and, 
 as each involved more or less risk of 
 discovery in the execution, he had to 
 content himself finally with the choice of 
 the least evil, which was, marriage by 
 banns in a church remote in the city, and 
 likely to be almost without congregation on 
 the Sundays when the banns would be 
 asked, as the holidays of Easter time 
 would remove about half of the scanty 
 dozen or score of parishioners who usually 
 attended. A kind of disguise was found 
 for the arrangement of Arthur's names, 
 mine were sufficiently obscure to attract no 
 notice. A store room for luggage was 
 eneaofed on Arthur's behalf, so as to 
 acquire for him the requisite status as a 
 parishioner.
 
 144 ^^^' ONLY LOVE. 
 
 Sooth to say, neither I nor the church 
 authorities showed ourselves hard to deal 
 with : for my part, why should I ? Against 
 another woman, a malicious enemy to both, 
 I knew all Arthur's precautions were 
 taken. From her snares and traps I had 
 saved him by a generous compliance with 
 his wishes, preferred before my own ; yes, 
 I had so saved him, and had no hesitation 
 in setting this, the higher duty, above any 
 former tie or worldly prejudice that could 
 condemn me. Was he not the same as my 
 husband now ? As such I obeyed him, my 
 honor being held as a part of his : as such 
 I loved him well enough to marry him how 
 he could, or to die for him. 
 
 Mrs. Heathcote began to have her 
 suspicions, which were likely to prove 
 rather inconvenient, in view of the short 
 week's honeymoon, upon which Arthur 
 insisted, so that our ingenuity was much 
 tLLxed to defeat her curiosity. We were to 
 be married at the end of the fortnight, 
 singly and quietly to make our way, by 
 nine in the morning, to the church ap- 
 pointed, and not till the next day, for fear 
 of discovery, was I to set out, presumably
 
 IS SWEET TO THE SOUL. 1 45 
 
 on my return home, but, in fact, to stop a 
 week at Weymouth on the way, Arthur be- 
 ing at the station beforehand to join me and 
 travel together. This intent Mrs. Heath- 
 cote did her endeavors (unconsciously) to 
 frustrate bv declaring she would see me off 
 herself, and my luggage, properly labelled 
 for Stormouth, into the train. We were 
 obliged to devise a meeting at the station, 
 quasi accidental. Arthur would say he 
 was going to Weymouth for his post- 
 Easter retirement out of town, and assume 
 to himself the charge of my luggage, while 
 leaving Mrs. Heathcoteto choose my place 
 in the ladies' compartment, to be vacated 
 by me at the first station we stopped at, as 
 the worst of our case, if Mrs. Heathcote 
 should keep her vigilant eye upon us till 
 the departing puff of the engine, as she 
 threatened to do. 
 
 I did not dare to write a word to Grannie, 
 lest if she knew I was in London, she 
 might set some inquiry on foot, which, 
 reaching Mrs. Heathcote, or anyone else 
 who might have heard of my being with 
 her, would have ruined all ; it would be six 
 weeks after I left home before I could 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 return, and I had to look for many chidings, 
 and worse, much sorrow for my truant 
 disposition, from my poor grandmother, 
 who was sure to torment herself and me 
 with a world of suspicions — any cause but 
 the right one — which would content her so 
 well if she knew — would be assigned for 
 my strange wanderings. Probably, on the 
 score of my residence with Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, I should be branded with the convic- 
 tion of a passion for the stage, which, even 
 worse than such for a man, would com- 
 promise my already suspected name with 
 the Stormouth folk. Let it be as it would, 
 in six months Arthur would take me with 
 him to India as his wife. 
 
 It was impossible to keep Mrs. Heath- 
 cote from wondering at me. I had but 
 one dress, a handsome travelling suit : I 
 required another — I thought it must be 
 white, to be married in. This I had to buy 
 somehow in Mrs. Heathcote's presence, for 
 I could not venture out shopping in London 
 alone, all my pluck and resolution being 
 held in reserve for the desperate final 
 adventure of getting to the church to be 
 married. So Mrs. Heathcote took me to
 
 IS SWEET TO THE SOUL. I47 . 
 
 a shop she recommended for any purchases 
 I required, but as I was going home so 
 soon, she did not see the necessity of just 
 what I could not do without, and especially 
 set her face against the white dress, as the 
 most useless I could encumber myself with 
 travelling. *It would make me conspicuous,' 
 she said, ' and moreover look soiled after a 
 day's wear, while a neat ecru would be 
 much more suitable and becoming^.' I had 
 to be obstinate and stick to the white, and 
 then there were coloured ribbons to be 
 removed. 
 
 ' Have black,' suggested Mrs. Heath- 
 cote. 
 
 ' No, white ; they must be white,' I 
 blurted. 
 
 ' White silk bows and sash, do you 
 mean, to wear by daylight in the street ? 
 My dear, you'll be stared at as if you had 
 a hundred heads on ; nonsense !' 
 
 * But can't I have all white in some way .'* 
 I don't care how, but I have a fancy for a 
 dress all white ; my grandmother told me 
 she used to wear all white when she was a 
 girl.' 
 
 ' That's half a century ago : girls don't 
 
 10 — 2
 
 148 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 go about in broad daylight with white 
 dresses now — not with white silk certainly,' 
 then, appealing to the authority of the 
 dressmaker : ' Did you ever make one of 
 the kind ? I am sure you never did.' 
 
 ' Well, only for young ladies going to a 
 wedding,' was the meek reply, ' we have 
 made them with muslin sash and bows, the 
 same as this dress, sometimes, but they 
 are not often required ; ladies prefer 
 coloured or black ribbon.' 
 
 I contrived to seize upon the opening for 
 a compromise ; the dress was to be one 
 entire fabric of soft opaque white. Next 
 I had to procure, with as little observation 
 as possible, some few dainty articles to do 
 duty for the usual paraphernalia of a bride, 
 as patterns, I said, I wanted them ; Mrs. 
 Heathcote objected that they could not be 
 properly copied without taking to pieces, 
 and being spoiled, and recommended paper 
 patterns instead. I had to shut my ears 
 to her arguments and take my own 
 way. 
 
 ' What extraordinary fancies girls will 
 take when they go out shopping and put 
 on a spurt !' was her opinion of me.
 
 IS SWEET TO THE SOUL. 1 49 
 
 Then for my white gloves. 
 
 ' Never, except for a wedding,' cried 
 Mrs. Heathcote. ' My dear, you're not 
 going to be married !' 
 
 The damsels of the counter smiled at one 
 another, they evidently suspected I was, 
 which Mrs. Heathcote observing, took 
 offence both with them and me. 
 
 ' I want a nice pair of white gloves,' I 
 said, ' because I never can get the size that 
 fits me in Stormouth, except I order them 
 weeks beforehand ; they do not keep my 
 number, and they send for them to London, 
 so I may as well get them myself while I 
 am here.' 
 
 Little hands to the rescue ! I carried off 
 the gloves triumphantly, and Mrs. Heath- 
 cote carried off me ; evidently our day's 
 business together had set her a-thinking, 
 none the less that she ' put her tongue a 
 little in her heart' 
 
 Next day was Sunday, the ' first time of 
 asking ' it was to be, and it seemed to me as 
 if the sun rose with another light than that 
 of common day ; as the hours rolled on, 
 and no strange accident befel to cross their 
 course, no shadow of impending fate went
 
 150 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 backwards on the dial of time, no moon 
 nor star suffered unnatural change, when 
 the evening of that morning made the 
 Sabbath day, then did the union that day 
 heralded become real to my perception, 
 and certain to my hope ; in a brief fort- 
 night, thus long, and no longer, was I to 
 be the I that I was, an unwedded maid ; 
 then should I be changed, another, though 
 the same, to become a part of him, no more 
 myself only, his, not my own, his wife. 
 Truly it was a great and wonderful thing 
 to think of, a tremendous revolution in my 
 little life, like a death and a resurrection ; 
 a great joy and shuddering got hold upon 
 me, as on one with bandaged eyes 
 tottering upon the threshold of another 
 world! His love was to be the hereafter 
 of my soul, which he should gather unto 
 him ! 
 
 On the Monday at breakfast time Mrs. 
 Heathcote came down in a handsome 
 black silk dress, in lieu of her morning 
 merino toilet, usual for receiving her 
 pupils ; she was a noted teacher of the 
 dramatic art, no less than an able exponent 
 of the same. Monday being one of her
 
 IS SWEET TO THE SOUL. 151 
 
 special teaching days when she would 
 have much 'business' to ijo throucrh in 
 course of instruction to young actresses, her 
 pupils, this silk dress, of which she was 
 particularly chary on such occasions, struck 
 her husband as a peculiarity, of which he 
 took it into his head to enquire the reason 
 on her following him down to breakfast. 
 She answered, putting a letter into his 
 hand. 
 
 ' Look what I received by this morning's 
 post, it was brought up to me after you 
 were gone down stairs, being marked 
 immediate. You read it. I haven't made 
 out half the words — only I'm to expect her 
 at eleven o'clock ; I must put off Miss 
 Tudor's lesson in consequence.' 
 
 Mr. Heathcote took and read the 
 letter. 
 
 ' Dear Madam, 
 
 'Will you assist me in a most embar- 
 rassing situation ? I am to play Marie de 
 Fontanges to-morrow fortnight, and my 
 usual dramatic adviser, Mrs. Gibber, has 
 gone to the country on a starring engage- 
 ment, so that I have really nobody to
 
 152 MV ONLY LOVE. 
 
 coach me in the part. I knov/ nothing 
 about it, but I hear it is a splendid one, 
 and I ought to make a great hit Avith it, 
 being just my style, so I want you to 
 teach it to me, as I hear you are the best 
 in the profession — you and Mrs. Gibber. 
 I shall want to take a long lesson every 
 day, or two lessons, or more, if we can 
 find the time, together. I shall call upon 
 you early to-morrow — say eleven o'clock, 
 hoping to catch you at that hour — and we 
 can begin then, if convenient to you. 
 There is no time to be lost if I am to do 
 you and myself credit. 
 
 ' I remain, dear Mrs. Heathcote, 
 ' Very truly yours, 
 
 ' Diana Hope Trevor.' 
 
 This being dated Sunday, within another 
 hour she would be here.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 'twixt cup and lip. 
 
 One hour, and my enemy would stand in 
 this very room, talking to the woman who 
 was now to me as a friend, discovering me, 
 guessing, conjecturing, I knew not what, 
 perhaps the very truth itself, which, as my 
 life, I was bound to guard against her 
 envious eyes. I had to plead with Mrs. 
 Heathcote for my all, and without telling 
 her so. 
 
 ' Lady Diana is coming here,' I said, 
 ' then I must keep away out of sighft, and 
 I beg of you, do not mention me at all, and 
 if she does, pray tell her nothing of me.' 
 
 ' I should not think of such a thinor. 
 Why, what could I tell her of you ?' 
 
 ' She must not know that I am in 
 London.'
 
 154 MY ONI,Y LOVE. 
 
 ' Why not ? she has no right to find 
 fault with your coming to town as well as 
 everybody else.' 
 
 ' She must not know why ; she must not 
 hear that I am with you ; she might make 
 a story out of it.' 
 
 ' Out of me ? Nonsense, she might think 
 you wanted to take to the stage. You 
 would be ashamed of that, young lady.' 
 
 ' Not in itself. I should not like it to 
 be set down that I had tried the stasfe and 
 failed.' 
 
 * But you didn't ; you've never done 
 anything of the kind.' 
 
 ' Don't you remember that spiteful attack 
 in the paper ?' 
 
 ' The Empress ? Oh, yes, that was 
 rather severe upon you.' 
 
 * That was Lady Di's contrivance, I'm 
 convinced, to destroy my chance of acting 
 again.' 
 
 ' I don't know that ; the Empress was 
 safe to cut you up in any case.' 
 
 ' But why — when they knew nothing 
 about me ?' 
 
 ' That's just the reason ; you're not a 
 friend of theirs.'
 
 TWIXT CUP AND LIP. 1 55 
 
 ' But they told a dozen falsehoods of me. ' 
 
 * You don't expect they would stop at 
 the truth ? The editor is a woman, one 
 of the strong minded, goes in for woman's 
 rights ; what would you have ? Can't you 
 see the feminine style ? a succession of 
 pin thrusts ! Now, a man's abuse would 
 hit wider of the mark.' 
 
 ' My grandmother would never consent 
 to my appearing in public again after that 
 article.' 
 
 * My dear, it can't do you any harm ; 
 nobody reads the Empress, except for the 
 fashion plates.' 
 
 ' Lady Diana had it written : she is 
 
 jealous of anyone — of me ' 
 
 ' I think you may say that, my dear.* 
 
 ' She is jealous of — my acting.' 
 
 ' Perhaps she pays you that compliment, 
 
 and another as well — you are too young, 
 
 too attractive — to one gentleman, at least. 
 ' May I trust you, Mrs. Heathcote i* — 
 
 can you keep a secret for me ? will you 
 
 promise, if I tell you what it was that 
 
 brought me to London ?' 
 
 ' Oh, I thought you were mad for the 
 
 stage. Wasn't that it ?'
 
 156 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' It was not.' 
 
 * Singular, then, your coming- to me.' 
 
 * I came to you as a friend. I have no 
 friend in London, except — except him, and 
 I did not know beforehand how he would 
 take it when I came. Promise me, on 
 your solemn word, you will tell no mortal 
 what brought me — not even your husband 
 must know.' He had left the room before 
 our conversation. 
 
 ' Not even my husband ? Well, that is 
 a secret !' 
 
 ^ I cannot tell you unless you promise.' 
 
 * Well, I promise. Come.' 
 
 * Arthur was the cause — he only. I 
 came to see him — to — I must not say any 
 more.' 
 
 ' If that's all you've got to tell me I'm 
 sorry I promised to make any secret of it. 
 I knew that much before, by the use of 
 my own eyes, and was quite free to tell any- 
 one I pleased.' 
 
 ' Oh, but you will not ! That would be 
 the same as if you were to kill me.' 
 
 ' My child, you take it so to heart ! I 
 see you have a heart that will hurt you all 
 your life through. There is nothing
 
 'twixt cup and lip. 157 
 
 whatever in the case that you should look 
 on it that way. You have done no harm, 
 I hope, in coming to me.' 
 
 ' No, but there are things I cannot tell 
 you.' 
 
 * I understand. Be careful of yourself, 
 my child, and do not believe all a man 
 says to you ; men say anything when they 
 have a point to gain with a girl like you. 
 I will do all I can for you, even without 
 being much in your confidence. I shall 
 not repeat anything you have said — no, 
 not to my husband, nor speak of you at all 
 to Lady Diana.' 
 
 ' But if she questions you ? She may be 
 coming on purpose.* 
 
 ' 1 don't think that likely ; but I shall 
 say I don't know anything about you. In 
 business it is always allowable to say we 
 don't know, when people ask inconvenient 
 questions.' 
 
 I kept close in my own room all the 
 time I knew my enemy was in the house ; 
 when she was gone, at the end of two and 
 a half mortal hours, and the door closed 
 after her, I crept down, half afraid lest the 
 creaking of a stair beneath my light foot-
 
 158 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 Step might work as a spell to recall her. 
 I stood at the door of the drawing-room, 
 hesitating. 
 
 ' Come in, my dear, the coast is quite 
 clear, no enemy in sight/ said Mrs. Heath- 
 cote, laughing at my trepidation ; ' we've 
 had a long lesson, and I hope my lady is 
 content with herself ; I should not be, I 
 know, if I had to work like that only for 
 one performance.' 
 
 ' You have been more than two hours 
 giving her a lesson.' 
 
 ' Oh, that's nothing ! She comes at ten 
 to-morrow for another two hours, and every 
 day for a fortnight It seems these 
 amateurs have their rehearsals in the after- 
 noon, so she comes to me early. She 
 wanted me to dine with her, and go on in 
 the evening rehearsing her part, but I'm 
 playing just now, so of course, that's out 
 of the question.' 
 
 * She wants lessons both morning and 
 evening ?' 
 
 ' Morning, noon, and night rehearsing. 
 She wouldn't do another mortal thing if 
 human patience could stand it Mine 
 could not, though I get a guinea an
 
 TWIXT CUP AND LTP. 1 59 
 
 hour. She's as good as a second engage- 
 ment to me for the fortnight.' 
 
 ' You have to teach her everything ?' 
 ' Teach her ! Word by word, parroting. 
 Not a^ blessed idea has she of the part ; 
 and as to business, she knows less than a 
 utility novice could teach her, until she 
 has gone through everything with me over 
 and over and over again, In general I 
 tell people two or three times the same 
 thing, and then, if they don't take it, I 
 leave them to themselves, but that would 
 not do with her, she would raise a laugh 
 at every line. She must make it worth 
 somebody's while to teach her or she could 
 not act. Mrs. Cibber must have made a 
 pot of money out of that lady pupil.' 
 
 * She will be sick of her part before she 
 plays it : don't you think it a bad plan to 
 make acting such a cut and dry task ?' 
 
 * My dear, I'm an artist; I don't care 
 what trouble I take, so there's an end 
 worth gaining, no more than you would 
 with your singing : I could understand any 
 labor to appear before the public, that's 
 fame, but to play one night for one's own 
 friends ! — well, some people are mad.'
 
 l6o MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 Knowing the time that Lady Diana was 
 to come next day, I wrote to Arthur by 
 way of jDrecaution : 
 
 * For a reason that I shall explain when 
 we meet, you must be cautious in coming to 
 see me here ; to-morrow afternoon all will 
 be safe, but on no account must you come 
 from ten to twelve o'clock in the morning. 
 Keep it secret that you visit at the house 
 at all ; I shall always let you know before- 
 hand, when it is safe for you to come. 
 Hoping to meet to-morrow, ever your 
 own, 
 
 ' Leila.' 
 
 This sent I was able to close my eyes 
 somewhat, but not much, that night : again 
 I had to lie perdue, like a bird afraid to 
 stir out of her nest, knowing that the hawk 
 is overhead, disporting unconscious of her 
 existence, but none the less ready for a 
 pounce down upon her, if she give the 
 chance. I knew that another pupil was to 
 follow Lady Diana, therefore I remained 
 upstairs till Mrs. Heathcote called me 
 down at half past- one.
 
 TWIXT CUP AND LIP, l6l 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, my dear,' she said ; 
 I've actually had no time to think of you 
 till now ; such a " fussification " as we've 
 had ! but it's always the way with amateurs, 
 something essential is sure to fall through, 
 or be forgotten till the last moment.' 
 
 * What's the matter with Lady Diana 
 now ? Is she not happy ?' 
 
 ' Not at all ; at least, she was not till I 
 made her so ; they had nobody to play 
 her waiting-maid. Just fancy!' 
 
 ' An unenviable position, I should say, 
 either in jest or earnest.' 
 
 ' A very pretty little part ; must be young 
 and attractive to look it, and they thought 
 they had it filled all right ; but this is a 
 public charity performance, so the young 
 lady's papa would not allow her to appear, 
 and that's all off.' 
 
 * Then the part will have to be cut out }' 
 ' No such thing ! I told Lady Diana 
 
 Miss Tudor could play it. She is studying 
 for the stage with me, but has never 
 appeared. I don't care about my pupils 
 playing with amateurs in general, but 
 this is an exceptional case — everything will 
 be properly done.' 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 1 62 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 Here was a blow ! Miss Tudor, who 
 knew me by sight and by name, brought 
 into juxtaposition with Lady Diana. * Miss 
 Tudor will play with them ?' I gasped 
 out. 
 
 ' To be sure she will ! Five guineas and 
 all expenses paid. I told her never to play 
 with amateurs unless they made it worth 
 her while ; but Lady Diana jumped at 
 the girl. 1 introduced them to one another, 
 and it's all arranged.' 
 
 An odd idea struck me : ' I wonder how 
 much the charity will benefit by it 
 all ?' 
 
 ' The charity ? — who ever heard of 
 amateurs caring for charity, except as a 
 cloak to hide their vanity ? Charity's just 
 a pretence for acting ; that's all. I dare 
 say they'll have a splendid house for that 
 small place ; two hundred pounds, perhaps, 
 but then the expenses will run up. If the 
 charity gets fifty pounds, they'll think 
 they've done wonders. In most of these 
 cases, the charity gets nothing at all ; I 
 think it's very wrong.' 
 
 ' And so do I, and I am very unhappy 
 that Miss Tudor has anything to do with
 
 'twixt cup and lip. i6 
 
 J 
 
 it ; she knows me, she will be sure to tell. 
 Oh, could you not prevent — find some one 
 else ? 'Tis nothing to her to play with 
 these amateurs.' 
 
 '"Nothing? — five guineas, and her first 
 appearance on any stage ? not that I should 
 reckon it as a first appearance.' 
 
 * It is everything in this world to me, to 
 keep myself out of Lady Diana's power or 
 knowledofe until I leave London.' 
 
 ' I never thought of such a thing. I am 
 sorry, but it can't be helped now; every- 
 thing's settled. I'll tell Miss Tudor not to 
 mention your name ; I think I can depend 
 upon her. But what a ' closet lock and 
 key of villainous secrets ' you are making 
 of me, my young lady !' 
 
 Late that afternoon came Arthur. I 
 knew by his light spring up the stairs that 
 he was in high spirits ; he came as the 
 eagle, exulting in the renewal of youth his 
 young love had put into his life — his very 
 soul overflowing in exuberant gaiety from 
 his lips. How could I find the heart to 
 throw a damp upon our joy ? 
 
 ' At last, my darling, at last ! As many 
 kisses as I want, if that could be ; they are 
 
 I I — 2
 
 164 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 all my own now. Our banns were asked 
 last Sunday. Hush and hurrah ! Nobody 
 suspects us.' 
 
 * I hope not — but I at least am in misery 
 at the risks I run.' 
 
 * Risks ! What risks ? You would not 
 let me come this mornino', or you would 
 have had the good news before.' 
 
 ' Arthur, you don't know, but I must 
 tell you, though I hate the sound of her 
 name. Lady Diana comes here every day, 
 to take lessons with Mrs. Heathcote.' 
 
 * Nonsense ! She take lessons ! Why, 
 she's a better actress herself than Mrs. 
 Heathcote in anything.' 
 
 * Don't you think such a thing — a parrot, 
 a piece of monkey tricks ; she has to learn 
 her part like her ABC. Mrs. Heathcote 
 says she only exists for the sole purpose of 
 rehearsinof.' 
 
 * What a passion for acting she must 
 have ! Well, that ought to content you, if 
 you believe that a woman is capable of 
 only one passion at a time ; if her whole 
 existence is absorbed in acting, my darling 
 little girl should be the last to complain.' 
 He said this with a roguish smile, that
 
 'twixt cup and lip. 165 
 
 failed to confirm my confidence in 
 him. 
 
 * Masculine vanit}^ ! I declare I believe 
 you are piqued that I should think another 
 woman does not care for you ; but I do 
 not think so, sir. I believe her acting is all 
 a trick to entangle you.' 
 
 ' Well, then, she gives herself a world of 
 trouble about nothino-. Does she come 
 here every day, did you say ?' 
 
 ' Every morning for two or three hours.' 
 
 ' Then I must not come so often, to 
 draw remarks and trouble upon you. What 
 is she studying now ?' 
 
 ' Marie de Fontange ; she plays it on 
 Monday week, the day of our marriage.' 
 
 ' That day, of all others ! I have heard 
 of this performance to come off; in fact, she 
 has invited me to be present.' 
 
 * But you cannot on that day !' 
 
 ' Why not ? You forget we do not set 
 off till the next morning, and it is vital to 
 me to lull suspicion of anything extra- 
 ordinary being connected with my going out 
 of town. I am half sorry now I did not take 
 Mrs. Fortescue into our confidence ; I 
 could have gone down and m.arried you at
 
 1 66 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 home, by special license. That mig-ht have 
 been the safest plan after all, but there's no 
 help for it now.' 
 
 * May I tell Mrs. Heathcote ? — and she 
 will help me, I know, to keep away sus- 
 picion from others.' 
 
 ' Not for the world ; she must know 
 nothing.' 
 
 * I am afraid she knows too much, or not 
 enough already ; she remarks how I blush 
 and tremble at your name. I cannot help 
 it, when I know we are so soon to be — I 
 cannot hide that I do care for you !' 
 
 ' My darling, innocent girl ! pretend to 
 care for me only a little — that's the way 
 when you care very much — it is safer than 
 trying to look as if you did not care at all.' 
 
 ' I wish I could care for you only a little ; 
 it would be better for me, and just as well 
 for you. I care for you too much, or you 
 would not have the heart to give me such 
 cruel pain — to spend the evening of our 
 wedding day with — with her.' 
 
 * Come, you're afraid she will unmarry 
 us : is that it ?' 
 
 ' Don't laugh at my misery ; I cannot 
 bear it, when you are making me do what
 
 'twixt cup and lip. 167 
 
 I know to be wrong, too ! Mrs. Heathcote 
 ought to know the truth, and then I should 
 have one friend, at least, I could depend 
 upon to help me through — indeed I want 
 it.' 
 
 ' My darling child, you must let me 
 think for you in this ; you cannot know 
 what I know, and it is my right to direct 
 you as your guide and protector through 
 life. You are not fit to deal with a 
 thorough woman of the world, so leave her 
 to me, and I will do all for the best. 
 Think, you are little more than a child. 
 Trust me, darling.' 
 
 Still less could I resist his caresses than 
 his words, and so gave up my own judg- 
 ment, feeling still that it was better than 
 his, as the true, right instinct of a child 
 may be wiser than man's reason. My 
 youth was coming against me now ! alas, 
 so it seemed! I was too young for him !
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 there's many a slip. 
 
 The day after this interview I received a 
 letter from Arthur : 
 
 * My dearest Love, 
 
 ' For your sake, as much as for 
 my own, and to disarm suspicion, I am 
 leaving town for these next ten days ; at 
 the end of that time I shall return to claim 
 your hand, having left all in safe course 
 towards that end. If you are sorry for 
 what you have done, or feel any natural 
 hesitation in entrusting the peace and hap- 
 piness of your young life to one not worthy 
 of you, it is not too late to retreat ; do as 
 you will, I shall ever remain yours with 
 the truest and deepest affection, 
 
 * Arthur.'
 
 there's many a slip. 169 
 
 Alas ; he knew me too well, and was too 
 sure of me, his own, heart, soul and life, or 
 he would never thus have put me to the 
 proof ! What change could come must come 
 from himself; for all such was to me impos- 
 sible ; he knew it, I knew he knew it ; what 
 more could I but strive to banish the doubt 
 that rose unbidden, the mistrust of him I 
 loved, hateful as the infidel murmur against 
 heaven's truth, rising up in the heart when 
 the power of darkness casts a shadow of 
 death and hell upon the believer's soul ! 
 Another Sunday came, and he was absent; 
 this was the second time our names were 
 asked, now safely over. Once more, and 
 all would be well ; this confidence was 
 growing in me ! I did not go out, not even 
 to church, being fearful the very stones 
 would observe me. Morning and after- 
 noon I shut myself in my room for fear of 
 visitors who might talk about me — not, as 
 it proved, without good cause to fear. 
 
 Mrs. Heathcote was oroinof out to seven 
 o'clock dinner at Lady Diana's, her hus- 
 band was bound for stage-land. When they 
 were both gone, I meditated to glide 
 downstairs and post a letter to Arthur un-
 
 I 70 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 observed. It was nearly six, and I had 
 beorun to watch and Hsten for their s^oinof 
 out, when a quick knock came to the door, 
 and the agitation of some unexpected 
 visitor made itself felt from the drawing- 
 room with a stir and commotion that 
 sounded through the whole house. I found 
 it most prudent not to move until Mrs. 
 Heathcote's strong voice, and the clapping 
 of the hall-door, gave indication of the in- 
 truder's departure. Then, oh, how my 
 heart leaped up in my throat as Mrs. 
 Heathcote screamed to me rather than 
 called: 'Miss Fortescue, Miss Fortescue, 
 where are you ? Are you upstairs ? Come 
 down ; I want to speak to you. What's 
 become of the girl ? Leila Fortescue !' 
 
 I came down, shaking in every fibre of 
 my frame. 
 
 * Miss Fortescue, you're going to be 
 married — don't deny the truth : I've dis- 
 covered it all ; that's what you came to me 
 for, and you never told me. Oh, what a 
 deep girl you are ! and so young, too !' 
 
 No reply from me : she had not 
 mentioned Aim, and I had presence of 
 mind enough to hear the end of the accusa-
 
 THERE S MANY A SLIP. I 7 I 
 
 tion before I would commit myself, perhaps 
 to something that no accuser could prove 
 against me. Provoked by my silence she 
 went on : 
 
 ' You shall not stir out of this house to- 
 niorht.' 
 
 ' I do not want to, Mrs. Heathcote.' 
 
 * Miss Fortescue, you are an awful girl I 
 To-morrow I shall communicate with your 
 friends, and tell them I wash my hands of 
 all responsibility. You want to make some 
 bad, disgraceful marriage !' 
 
 What a relief ! she was all in the dark, 
 evidently. I became the questioner. 
 
 ' No such thing, Mrs. Heathcote, I 
 assure you on my honor as a lady. Who 
 told you so ? and what have you heard of 
 me?' 
 
 ' Miss Tudor has just been here, and 
 told me she heard your banns asked to- 
 day, with her own ears, in that out-of-the- 
 way church — what did she call it ? I 
 forget. She's a very religious girl, and she 
 took it into her head to attend church this 
 morning, and went to that church, for the 
 sake of the walk, she said, and because 
 there would be plenty of room there. I
 
 172 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 can't say whether she had heard any 
 whisper of what was going on ; she heard 
 your banns for the second time of asking.' 
 
 ' Did she say so ?' 
 
 * Yes, heard your name, Leila Fortescue ; 
 she could not be mistaken, she said, and 
 now what are you going to do with your- 
 self, young lady ? Something very bad, or 
 you would not want to be married by banns ; 
 no respectable people ever are.' 
 
 ' You are all in the wrong,' I said, 
 smiling with involuntary triumph at my 
 noble choice, * but I cannot tell you any 
 more now than you can find out for your- 
 selves.' 
 
 I could see or hear from Arthur before 
 the next Sunday, and doubted not that 
 he would find a way to bring me through 
 this dilemna. 
 
 ' I shall forbid the banns,' cried Mrs. 
 Heathcote, ' I shall not allow you to be 
 married, unless you give me satisfactory 
 reasons before the day comes, and show 
 me your grandmother's consent. Why, 
 you're a child ! not seventeen ; you don't 
 know what you are doing. Can't you wait 
 and be properly married ? If the man
 
 THERE S MANY A SLIP. I JT) 
 
 means well, he can find no fault with that 
 Whom do you want to marry ? Mr. 
 Arthur, Miss Tudor thought, was the 
 name : perhaps some married man, taking 
 you in under a false one. I don't know 
 any Mr. Arthur.' 
 
 Anything rather than that she should 
 suspect the truth without his permission ! 
 I have called him ' Arthur ' in this narra- 
 tive ; she did not know him by that name, 
 but by his usual style and title only. We 
 had contrived that ' Arthur ' should have 
 prominent place in the asking of banns, so 
 as to mystify the congregation, no heed 
 being likely to be taken of my unnoted 
 name, and all jumbled together into a 
 string of undefined pronunciation, it was 
 by the worst of ill-luck that any attention 
 had been attracted thereto. I felt I was 
 safe so long, and so long only, as no one 
 detailed the circumstances to Lady Diana. 
 She would know the love-name ' Arthur/ 
 I thought, only too well. 
 
 * Mrs. Heathcote,' I said, ' I will venture 
 to promise you shall know and approve 
 of all by this day week ; but upon the 
 condition that Lady Diana Hope Trevor
 
 174 ^lY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 knows nothing, hears nothing in the mean- 
 time ; I know her evil mind to ruin me as 
 a rivak' 
 
 Had I betrayed my secret ? Mrs. 
 Heathcote said, ' Oh !' a light evidently 
 breaking in upon her, which I had not 
 intended to expose to view ; then, after a 
 pause : ' Well, my dear, perhaps you are 
 in the right after all ; you're just the sort 
 of girl to make a oreat match. I've no 
 doubt you would make scores of conquests 
 if you were on the stage, but you're better 
 off as you are ; if you make your hit, it's 
 nobody's business to quarrel with you as 
 to how you do it. I only want to be sure 
 it's all right, and I'll not stand in your way, 
 my dear ; I don't want to play marplot on 
 the occasion.' 
 
 ' Do one thing for me — keep Miss Tudor 
 from talking of me, from mentioning my 
 name at all, in Lady Diana's hearing ; 
 this is a question of life and death to 
 me.' 
 
 * Dear, dear, I hope not ! there's nothing 
 so hard to stop as silly people's tongues ; 
 but I shall see Miss Tudor to-morrow, 
 before she and my lady meet, and I'll give
 
 THERE S MANY A SUP. 175 
 
 her a caution ; she'll be afraid to repeat 
 anything in spite of me.' 
 
 Vain precaution ! on her return home 
 that night, Mrs. Heathcote's face told 
 enough for me to fear there was irreparable 
 mischief done ; she met my questions 
 frankly, and said — 
 
 ' Well, my dear, I've done all I could. 
 I'll tell you everything exactly as it hap- 
 pened, and you shall judge for yourself. 
 Miss Tudor was there before me ; she 
 must have gone straight from this house to 
 Lady Diana's, but she never told me a 
 word — very deep of her! There's a 
 sudden intimacy sprung up between those 
 two.' 
 
 ' I see — Lady Diana chooses one woman 
 as her weapon against another.' 
 
 ' Not me — she would not try that ! but 
 Miss Tudor is a foolish monkey; a titled 
 lady's house is ■' kingdom come " to her. 
 Well, she was there, but I don't think they 
 had talked much ; Sir John was in the 
 room.' 
 
 ' They did not talk together ?' 
 
 * Not then. I tried to draw Miss Tudor 
 into a corner, to warn her, but there was
 
 1 76 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 nobody but we four, and dinner was an- 
 nounced almost immediately, so I had no 
 opportunity. Sir John was most polite to 
 me : he handed me down to table as if I 
 had been a duchess !' Here Mrs. Heath- 
 cote bridled up with pardonable pride; from 
 participation in Miss Tudor's ' little sins,' at 
 least, she was not exempt. 
 
 'Wait until you hear exactly what 
 passed. Sir John began to speak of your 
 acting in Desdemona, that time at Stor- 
 mouth. He praised you very much, and 
 asked me whether I had you with me as a 
 pupil for the stage. It was evident to me 
 you were a common topic of conversation 
 in that house.' 
 
 ' What did you answer ?' 
 
 ' I said you were with me as a friend. 
 I answered rather stiffly, and gave Miss 
 Tudor a look. I saw through it then, 
 how she and Lady Diana had been 
 plotting together to keep me in the dark.' 
 
 ' Do you believe that i*' 
 
 * I am sure of it. Why should Lady 
 Diana never mention your name to me, 
 until Sir John let the cat out of the bag } 
 They've known you were in my house ever
 
 THERE S MANY A SLIP. 1/7 
 
 since you came, all through Miss Tudor. 
 Sly, deceitful girl !' 
 
 ' Did she tell them what she heard in 
 church ?' 
 
 ' Every word, my dear, there and then, 
 in spite of my winks, and nudges under 
 the table ; she would not see me. She 
 told me afterwards, as we were coming 
 out, that she had no idea what I could 
 possibly mean. I don't believe her.' 
 
 ' But what did you say to them ? Did 
 they question you ?' 
 
 ' Not much ; for Lady Diana was taken 
 with a sudden, violent toothache, she said, 
 through the window being open. I don't 
 think that was the reason.' 
 
 ' A toothache ! A heartache ! Did she 
 hear his name ?' 
 
 ' Only Arthur. Yes, Miss Tudor told 
 her Arthur. Lady Diana turned very 
 white, and said she was in great pain.' 
 
 ' I dare say she was ; she knows all now.' 
 
 I spoke quietly, in a kind of despair. 
 The worst had come, in so far as I was 
 betrayed to my enemy. How far her 
 power to do me harm might reach, I knew 
 not, but from my fears. One thing I was 
 
 VOL. L 12
 
 178 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 resolved upon, to tell nothing myself, so 
 that let what would come, the blame with 
 Arthur should not be mine. I kept his 
 behest. 
 
 Next morning, at Lady Diana's usual 
 lesson time, I was in my room, my door 
 locked, as if I could shut out my fate ! I 
 heard the knock beneath, and the shaking 
 of the house, as the door closed upon her 
 within it; a few minutes more, and Mrs. 
 Heathcote was at my door, knocking and 
 demanding to be let in. I did not answer 
 at first ; I would not open. 
 
 ' It is nobody but me,' she persisted ; 
 ' let me in, I must speak to you.' 
 
 I crept up to the keyhole and groaned 
 out, * Keep her off — tell her I'm ill ; I can 
 do nothing, say nothing — go !' 
 
 ' One minute, for your own sake ; I want 
 to speak to you — let me in.' She was 
 resolute, and after all, friendly to me. 
 
 ' Give me your word you will not bring 
 her in upon me,' I cried : she did so, and I 
 turned the key in the lock, and fell into her 
 arms. 
 
 * Poor child !' she said, pityingly ; ' don't 
 let that proud, bad woman crush you ;
 
 THERE S MANY A SLIP. I 79 
 
 don't be afraid of her, or she will ! Dare 
 her out ; that's your only chance now.' 
 
 ' She wants to see me — to question me 
 — to put me to torture. The sight of her is 
 enough to kill me. I will wait till he tells 
 me what I must do !' 
 
 ' I would not put it to that if I were 
 you ; she would only play her game behind 
 your back, and poison his mind, no one 
 knows how. Take my advice, my child ; 
 I would say the same thing to you if you 
 were my own daughter. Face her down, 
 and tell her nothing — that's the way to 
 make her betray herself; she's just the 
 woman to do that,' 
 
 ' To betray herself ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; she knows that she is a guilty 
 woman. If she has any shame left, she 
 will not dare to push you to extremity, if 
 she sees you will not be trodden on. If you 
 submit or give your own cause up, do not 
 trust to any man to be more true to you than 
 you are to yourself. Take my warning.' 
 
 * I will, Heaven help me ! Must I meet 
 her alone ?' 
 
 ' That is what she wants — but I'll be 
 within call, my dear. Come down.' 
 
 J 2 2
 
 l8o MY ONLY LOVE, 
 
 I made up my mind to go as it were to 
 my death, and followed Mrs. Heathcote 
 down to the drawing-room, where all out- 
 ward forms of good breeding were to have 
 place between us three. 
 
 ' My dear Miss Fortescue, let me present 
 you to Lady Diana Hope Trevor,' said 
 Mrs. Heathcote. 
 
 My enemy bent her proud head and 
 smiled an evil smile, while I returned the 
 honor by a curtsey down to the ground. 
 Mrs. Heathcote told me afterwards I 
 looked then the proudest of the two. The 
 introduction over, she discreetly left us 
 with, * I know you two ladies will like a 
 little chat together. You'll understand 
 one another better yourselves to yourselves. 
 
 Motioning me to sit down. Lady Diana 
 sank, or rather crouched into an arm-chair, 
 smooth and subtle as the tigress or the 
 snake, when meditating the swift spring, 
 the deadly grasp, the annihilating crush of 
 a weaker foe. 
 
 * I believe we are known to one another 
 by sight, Miss Fortescue,' she began, with 
 a cold, cruel ring in her smoothly dropping 
 words. ' I took an interest in you as Des-
 
 there's many a slip. i8i 
 
 demona, but you were put into a very false 
 position for a young girl.' 
 
 * Perhaps so, in the opinion of others ; I 
 did not feel it myself.' 
 
 * You suffered very much from nervous- 
 ness,' 
 
 ' Not more than others, I fancy. You, 
 Lady Diana, have acted so often, you 
 forget what it is like to stand before the 
 public for the first time.' 
 
 ' No, indeed, I suffer intensely ; in 
 fact, it makes me quite ill every time I 
 appear.' 
 
 ' Yet you do it !' 
 
 ' I am very fond of it.' 
 
 ' I cannot say I am, or ever could be.' 
 
 ' And for why ?' 
 
 ' I have a natural repugnance to drawing 
 the malice of the world upon me !' This 
 I said with an arrow-shot of the eyes at 
 her, but withdrew the glance as it flew. 
 I saw, as well as felt, her eyes dissecting 
 me from head to foot, as if measuring me 
 out to be devoured. 
 
 ' The malice of the world !' she repeated 
 slowly ; ' yes, that is a fearful thing to any 
 woman who lays herself open to reproach,
 
 1 82 MV ONLY LOVE. 
 
 but utter ruin to an unprotected girl. I 
 pity you !' 
 
 ' Pity me, Lady Diana ? That may be 
 a condescension in one of your rank, to a 
 mere stranger, but it is not a pleasant com- 
 pliment. I am content to be what I am, 
 and not conscious of needing anyone's 
 pity.' I spoke fast and eagerly, my agita- 
 tion gaining upon my prudence. 
 
 * You are very young and innocent — 
 you look very innocent — you have run 
 away from your home after a man who 
 does not care for you.' 
 
 ' I run after a man ? Men may run 
 after me, if they want me.' 
 
 ' I daresay they may, a good many of 
 them. You are not handsome, but you 
 are " fetching " while you are very young, 
 " la beatitS du diable ; " though there is not 
 much of you.' A look of contempt. ' Men 
 have strange fancies sometimes. You ex- 
 pect to be married to Arthur ?' 
 
 ' I have no right to answer any such 
 questions ; you know nothing about me, 
 Lady Diana, nor what I expect.' 
 
 ' Ah, you do ? Well, you're a litde fool, 
 that's all ; he is only laughing at you.'
 
 there's many a slip. 183 
 
 I rose to my feet in the offended dignity 
 of five-feet-four ; I was not little, though 
 slight and girlish in figure, and not to be 
 compared with Lady Diana's inches and 
 superb development of womanhood. 
 
 * I will not be called a fool,' I said, 
 * because you, Lady Diana, suspect me of 
 having attracted the regard of somebody 
 you want to keep to yourself; as to laugh- 
 ing at me, that anyone can do at another 
 — you may, if you like, to my face ; it will 
 make no difference in what I do.' 
 •- She took me at my word, and let go the 
 mocking- laug^hter she had hitherto half re- 
 strained ; then broke out, ' His wife ? pah ! 
 He wants you for a mistress ; you his wife ! 
 ha! ha!' 
 
 ' Lady Diana, you are slandering a man 
 as incapable of harbouring such a base 
 design as I am of consenting to it.' 
 
 ' Ah, you love him — he tells you he 
 loves you ?' 
 
 ' You have no right to ask such a ques- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' No right ?' 
 
 ' No. What is it to you what I do ? 
 What he does ? You are married ! Why
 
 184 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 should you be jealous of him ? Why inter- 
 fere at all ?' 
 
 'Jealous! What do you dare to sup- 
 pose ? My husband's interests and 
 Arthur's are bound up together. He 
 must not marry out of his class ; he must 
 have connection and influence with his wife, 
 or remain as he is until his career in India 
 is secured. I tell you his prospects will 
 not suffer him to think of a mere nobody 
 like you.' 
 
 ' You take a deep interest in his pro- 
 spects, Lady Diana. You will not allow him 
 to have a wife at all if you can, unless your 
 husband dies. Lady Diana, you love him.' 
 
 I had hit hard and true upon the mark. 
 It broke to shivers, which she dashed 
 away. 
 
 ' Love him !' she cried ; ' and if I do, so 
 much the worse for you, if you dare to 
 come between us ; a chit of a girl that 
 nobody knows. Yes ; do whatever you 
 like, whatever you can. You are fond of 
 knocking your head against stone walls. 
 Ha! ha! If the pot of clay will pit itself 
 against the pot of brass, so much the worse 
 for the pot of clay.'
 
 there's many a slip. 185 
 
 Another insolent laugh, to which I had 
 nothing to reply, though the thought of my 
 descent, eight centuries old, made my 
 young blood burn to listen in silence. 
 Boastfully she pursued, trampling on me 
 when she had me down. 
 
 * I am of his own caste, his own sphere. 
 I have done for him what no other in 
 England could do. My connections, my 
 husband's influence, my own place in the 
 world, have all been put in motion to the 
 utmost to raise him to his high position ; 
 greatness he had in himself, but the oppor- 
 tunity that made him a great man came 
 through me. He owes me what to him is 
 far more than life — his name, his fame.' 
 
 ' And how would you have him repay 
 the obligation ? You love him to do him 
 evil, to make him do wrong.' 
 
 ' Wrong ? There must be wrong, you 
 think. Cannot a woman love a man 
 without disgracing herself ? You judge 
 of others by your own foul thoughts, young 
 lady.' 
 
 I felt the hot stream rush scarlet to my 
 face. Here was I, innocent, blurred by 
 contact with my guilty accuser.
 
 1 86 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 * You redden/ she pursued ; ' you can 
 blush, it seems. Aye, well you may. No; I 
 am not Arthur's mistress ' — a most keenly 
 insulting emphasis on the two words — ' not 
 but what many noble-hearted women have 
 given up all, name and rank, and what the 
 world calls honor, for the man they love. 
 A married woman is disinterested — at least, 
 she has all the world to lose for her love, 
 nothing to gain. If she does forsake all 
 for. a man, she is better than you girls who 
 sell yourselves to the best bidder in the 
 legal and honorable marriage market, 
 forsooth. Faugh ! that is viler than pick- 
 ing oakum or breaking stones. What do 
 you expect your face will fetch } eh, little 
 girl '} — a peerage ? Is that the game you 
 want to play ?' 
 
 I could endure no more ; a lucky thought 
 flashes upon me : 
 
 ' Say what you will of me, I have done 
 nothing that truth and honor forbid, but 
 you — you have set a taint upon Arthur's 
 finger, a ring of your's that none but him- 
 self must wear ; you would have him keep 
 it, reckoning on your husband's death, to 
 claim him then — to make him marry you.
 
 there's many a slip. 187 
 
 You have a husband, and you pledge 
 yourself to another man. Do you call 
 this right, or wrong ? do you call it honor- 
 able ?' 
 
 ' Who told you this ? — he has betrayed 
 me ?' 
 
 ' No ; he has kept the wretched secret i 
 it was not he that told me.' 
 
 ' Who then ?' 
 
 * My own eyes — yourself betraying your- 
 self, as women who are capable of these 
 things will do.' 
 
 ' Women ! What do you know of women 
 or men either ? W^hat do you suppose you 
 can ever be to Arthur ? A stop-gap, a 
 bagatelle pour passer le temps until old Sir 
 John sees ht to take himself out of the 
 way.' 
 
 I hardly understood the hideous inuendo; 
 but fain to guard my own fair fame without 
 committing him, I said : 
 
 ' I am no candidate for any conquest, in 
 any way but what is honorable ; 1 do not 
 believe any man could doubt that, or 
 would treat me otherwise.' 
 
 ' Oh, you believe yourself a paragon of 
 virtue • You would not be Arthur's
 
 1 88 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 mistress, not you ! — except you were a 
 legalised mistress, and so you would be as 
 his wife. You don't expect he could love 
 you, if you imagine he loves me. What a 
 comparison ! His wife, indeed ! Men 
 don't marry for a fit of passion !' 
 
 Though I shrunk at the horrible revela- 
 tion, some grain of abhorred truth seemed 
 to thrust itself through her words ; had he 
 not left me, undefended, to meet this fury ? 
 Was this like lovinQf me as I loved him ? 
 Had he not always spoken of her with 
 provoking forbearance, whatever cause 
 brought up her name between us ? It 
 was plain he knew she loved him, and he 
 was too tender of her feelings for me to 
 assure myself that love could be utterly 
 despised ! Was I not indeed a fool ? a 
 hopeless one ? It might be so, yet if it 
 were possible, I would keep him from her, 
 my abhorred rival ! 
 
 'Whatever I may be,' 'I said, slowly, 
 * you can be nothing to him more than a 
 friend — if you call yourself so, you cannot 
 be his wife ; though you play dog in the 
 manger all his life long, that gives you no 
 claim upon him.'
 
 there's many a slip. 189 
 
 * No claim upon him ? I, who have 
 raised him to what he is ?' 
 
 I grew sarcastic : ' Then you ought to 
 be glad of anything that could make him 
 happy; you are married yourself. If he 
 were to marry, you would be on equal 
 terms, that's all ; you could wait till his 
 wife died, you know, instead of making 
 him wait for your husband's death.' 
 
 'Oh, you cunning young viper! you think 
 to take him from me ! — from me, whom he 
 loved all his life, since I was a girl. I 
 might have had him then, if I would : I 
 might have him, if I would do such a thing, 
 now ; the man could not resist me /' 
 
 There was a horrible conviction in her 
 words ; should I have driven her desperate 
 had I known her power upon him ? She 
 went on — 
 
 ' No man, once in love with me, ever got 
 over it yet ; no more can he. Yes, yes, I 
 can keep him. You think I will stick at 
 anything, having gone so far ? That I will 
 be thwarted by a child ? — oh no, no ! — or a 
 man ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! A woman like me 
 will pierce through stone walls if they 
 stand between her and her will. Weak
 
 IQO MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 things men are to contend with that ! Their 
 fancies, indeed ! I can laugh at them, ha 1 
 ha! ha!' 
 
 She was working herself into hysterical 
 violence, under her simulated defiance of 
 me. I felt, I hoped her power to keep 
 him to a dishonorable tie was less than she 
 assumed ; it might be that the demon in 
 her heart should be baffled by my strong 
 and innocent love : I would deal cautiously 
 with her. 
 
 ' I have no right to answer for Arthur in 
 any way. You have known him long : 
 draw your own conclusions, as you have 
 done hitherto. I have told you nothing.' 
 
 ' Silence and discretion with a vengeance. 
 I know what you mean to do — to steal a 
 match with him. Not while I live. I will 
 stop that. I will expose him to the world. 
 I will ruin him, utterly — blast his career 
 with infamy. My husband shall be his 
 enemy and my avenger. I care not what I 
 do to myself, if I cut my own throat. 
 Cross me at your peril, young girl ; you 
 shall never marry him till you kill me I 
 We'll see which is the strongest, you or I. 
 Ha ! ha ! ha !'
 
 THERE S MANY A SLIP. I9I 
 
 I thought she was going mad, but she 
 reined in her frenzy fit, and flung herself 
 out of the room. Lost in terror, I had no 
 sense left to conjecture what form her rage 
 might take to destroy me, to do that which 
 I feared above all that could happen to me 
 here or hereafter, separate me from him I 
 loved. I was sitting still, not attempting 
 to stir of my own motion, but trembling 
 with a violent, involuntary seizure in every 
 limb, that shook me like winnowing wheat, 
 when Mrs. Heathcote came and found 
 me. 
 
 ' My child, what have you done to Lady 
 Diana .'* She will murder you if she can, or 
 blast you before the world ; that is the 
 way that great ladies commit murder of the 
 reputation. I tremble for you.' 
 
 I fell upon her breast : * Oh, women are 
 like devils to other women when they 
 hate.' 
 
 ' Yes, that's like what Shakespeare says ; 
 he was a man. I say men are our worst 
 enemies if we give them their way.' 
 
 ' Who would have thought it of her, with 
 her soft, blonde beauty ? I never knew 
 there could be so much fury in blue eyes.'
 
 192 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' They are the fiercest when provoked. 
 Beware of her ! I'm afraid you have been 
 very imprudent. What have you done to 
 her ? Oh, I know ! You are not to answer 
 any questions. Come upstairs, and write 
 to him, my dear : you shall do whatever you 
 like ; only I have got nothing to say to 
 you. I wash my hands ; you never took 
 me into your confidence.' 
 
 ' I wish to heaven I could ;' and I sank 
 into her arms weeping. Was she not in 
 place of a mother to me ? To something in 
 my misery I must cling, as in the sinking 
 ship, or the burning house, when there is 
 none to help, they cling to one another 
 who are about to perish.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MAN PROPOSES. 
 
 Not with impunity to me, it seemed, had 
 Arthur wandered into the paths of virtue 
 for my sake ; his backsHding once dis- 
 covered by this terrible married woman, 
 she would contend for him with his honor- 
 able love, as devil with angel, striving to 
 degrade and destroy him body and soul. 
 He being absent, I could no nothing to 
 defeat her purpose but write to him in the 
 way of warning. ]\Iy great and intolerable 
 fear was, that on his return she would see 
 him first, and prejudice my cause. I 
 wrote : 
 
 ' You must know at once from myself 
 that our secret has been suspected, if not 
 VOL. I. I ;
 
 194 ^fY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 discovered, in the quarter where conceal- 
 ment was most desired by you ; that 
 misfortune has occurred throuo^h no fault 
 of mine, so come to me and consult how we 
 must shape our course in the first place, as 
 soon as you can come back to town ; decide 
 whatever you wish, but do not be angry 
 with me — I could not bear it now. 
 
 ' Your ever devoted, 
 
 ' Leila.' 
 
 When I wrote, I knew he would not be 
 back for several days, unless my letter were 
 forwarded ; I was doubtful about that, and 
 nervous lest it might fall into wrong hands; 
 his public character, I knew, brought 
 bushels of letters through the 'post, besides 
 his private correspondence. I asked Mrs. 
 Heathcote to send this by a messenger, 
 with special request that it should be 
 forwarded. She did so, half vexed at my 
 anxiety, then lectured me : 
 
 'My child, you are going the way to 
 lose him ; use him ill, and you will have 
 a better chance. Why, I've made my 
 husband confess, the worse we use a man 
 the better he thinks of us — before marriage,
 
 MAN PROPOSES. 1 95 
 
 I mean. I wish you could marry some 
 one else — a young man, nearer your own 
 age ; that would be the way to serve him 
 out' 
 
 ' No ; I should behave ill myself to do 
 that' 
 
 ' Behave ill to a man ? And if you did, 
 no matter what we do to men, we may 
 always be sure they deserve it thoroughly 
 on some other woman's account, if not on 
 our own ; we can't do anything too bad to 
 them ; mark my words — they may yet be 
 useful to you.' 
 
 ' I thought him the noblest of men — I 
 think so still. Is there no truth, no trust 
 amonof them ?' 
 
 ' I don't say that altogether, either ; he 
 is too old and artful for you, my dear ; 
 some young man that had his bread to 
 earn would make you a much better 
 husband ; hard work is the only thing that 
 keeps men out of mischief.' 
 
 ' Your husband — you can trust him ?' 
 
 ' Yes, my dear ; we were both very 
 young when we married, and both poor, 
 and we've worked hard together. I will 
 say that for the men in this profession, 
 
 i^ — 2
 
 196 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 compared with men of the world, they are 
 not so bad. I can judge ; I've seen a deal 
 of both ; it is the greed of money, or the 
 care of what the world will say, that spoils 
 the matches. A girl had best look on her 
 admirers as so many fishes that will prey 
 upon us, unless we prey upon them ; we 
 have a right to do it — we are the more 
 generous foe of the two.' 
 
 One day all this worldly wisdom might 
 serve ; it was useless now. 
 
 After three days of wretchedness and 
 suspense, Arthur came, late in the evening, 
 when it was dark. Did he fear being 
 seen ? As I dreaded, it had come to pass ; 
 she had seen him before me, and fore- 
 stalled my tale. His tone was one of the 
 deepest disappointment — bitter vexation 
 with himself, half reproach to me. 
 
 * How could she know ?' he complained, 
 ' she may have had a suspicion through 
 some tittle-tattling fool ; she could not 
 have been certain. Why, Leila, did you 
 talk of our marriaofe ?' 
 ' I did not.' 
 
 ' Why did you talk to her ? why see her 
 at all ?' .
 
 MAN PROPOSES. 1 97 
 
 * She insisted ; Mrs. Heathcote put it 
 upon me not to refuse.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Heathcote ? Why did you tell 
 her?' 
 
 ' I told her nothing ; I obeyed you, 
 Arthur. Had I been allowed to take Mrs. 
 Heathcote into our confidence, all this 
 might have been prevented ; but it is not 
 my fault, punish me as you will for my 
 misfortune.' 
 
 ' How could I punish you ? how could I 
 bear you to suffer ? You are not to blame 
 in any case, but for loving me too well.' 
 
 ' Am I to blame for that ? Oh, don't 
 tell me so ; it is too late — I cannot unlove 
 you now !' 
 
 ' Well, it cannot be helped ; it was a 
 great misfortune for both we ever met 
 at all.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't say that ! I cannot bear to 
 think I have caused misfortune to you.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I think worse of it for your sake. 
 What is to be done for you ? We cannot 
 marry now ; she would ruin my reputa- 
 tion, blast all my career ; she told me so, 
 — she means to do it — she has the power.' 
 . * The power to ruin you ?'
 
 198 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' Unhappily she has, and some cause to 
 use it, as women reason. Leila, I loved 
 her once ; and women hate to yield their 
 power upon a man to another woman.' 
 
 * Oh, Arthur ! you never told me this 
 before.' 
 
 * So much the worse for me now : I 
 should have told you. We loved each 
 other as boy and girl.' 
 
 ' Your first love ? — oh, Arthur !' 
 
 ' I suppose so. Do not give me those 
 agonising looks, Leila. I never loved her 
 as I have loved you.' 
 
 ' As you have loved me ? Then it is all 
 over now ?' And I turned away from him, 
 weeping very sore. 
 
 ' Do not despair, Leila ; but we must be 
 patient. I will tell you the whole truth 
 from the first ; you must know it now, and 
 I will make it as gentle to you as I can.' 
 
 ' Oh, it is all very dreadful to me, and so 
 strange ! I thought you above such things ; 
 but tell me — you met her long ago ?' 
 
 ' Before you were born, Leila. You 
 have heard I was the architect of my own 
 fame and rank. I was the younger son 
 of a younger son, and went out to India,
 
 :\iAx PROPOSES. 199 
 
 like Wellington in his day, and many others, 
 to build up our Indian Empire and my 
 own fortunes at the same time. I was then 
 a subaltern in the army, having the entrie 
 as a young officer of family, into the 
 highest circles. I met Lady Diana as my 
 superior in the social scale ; she was the 
 Viceroy's daughter.' 
 
 ' You became intimate with her ?' 
 
 * Well, no ; I first saw her at a great 
 ball at her father's palace : I had the 
 presumption to walk up to her and ask her 
 to dance without an introduction.' 
 
 ' Just like you, Arthur.' 
 
 ' I was a daring young fellow. Some 
 brother officers were talking about her, and 
 one of them made a wager that I should 
 get snubbed for my impertinence. I forget 
 how it all came about. I went in and won.' 
 
 ' She danced with you more than once 
 that night ?' 
 
 ' She did, until we were remarked and 
 separated.' 
 
 ' She was very, very beautiful ?' 
 
 'The most beautiful, the most fascinating, 
 altogether the most attractive girl I ever 
 met in all my life — she was then.'
 
 200 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 * Oh, Arthur ! you never could truly love 
 anyone else. You did love her ?' 
 
 ' I thought so at the time, but it came to 
 nothing. I never proposed to her — a man 
 does not, when he has no chance, unless he 
 is a fool.' 
 
 ' Unless he is in love ; then a man can 
 always find a way to do it. She did not 
 encourage you ?' 
 
 * Yes, she did ; her preference for me 
 could not be mistaken ; but we never met 
 except in public, when she was surrounded 
 by hosts of admirers. She evidently cared 
 for none of them, yet she treated all too 
 much alike through love of admiration. 
 She never seemed to draw me nearer to 
 her than the others, though I knew she did 
 like me best, and I was too proud to thrust 
 my attentions upon her when I knew it 
 would be no use.' 
 
 ' Then you did not truly love her. 
 How could you know she would not have 
 you unless you tried ?' 
 
 ' In our relative positions it was impos- 
 sible I could present myself to her father 
 as a suitor ; and I should have thought it 
 dishonorable to tempt her to a runaway
 
 MAN TROPOSES. 20I 
 
 match. I had no means to keep her in 
 her station, and she was not a woman to 
 endure poverty.' 
 
 ' You would not wait until you rose in 
 the army, and then try your chance with 
 her ?' 
 
 ' If I would, she did not ; she married, in 
 her own sphere, a man her father's equal 
 in age as well as the rest : that was the 
 worst of the bargain.' 
 
 ' She did not care for him long ?' 
 
 ' She never cared for him at all — it was a 
 mistake ; he was too old for her, and she 
 pined for a lover of her own years, as was 
 but natural,' 
 
 ' That was unfortunate. General Hope 
 Trevor is a man to deserve a better wife. 
 To me it would make no difference that I 
 was younger than the one I loved.' 
 
 * She was unlike you in that, Leila : you 
 loved me for my fame.' 
 
 ' I did at first — but now for yourself 
 only.' 
 
 * Not for my face, Leila ?' 
 
 ' Well, yes — no — I cannot tell for what ; 
 but if you were to turn as black as Othello, 
 it Y;-ould make no chanee in me.'
 
 202 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 '• I believe it, Leila : but she fancied me 
 when I was young, and — well, I had the 
 name of a handsome fellow, the next best 
 thing to being it, and she never fancied Sir 
 John, though she married him with her 
 own free will.' 
 
 ' You met her after her marriage ?' 
 
 ' Very often, and on much more intimate 
 terms than before.' 
 
 ' But that was wrong, very wrong of 
 you, Arthur.' 
 
 ' Why so, when she sought my society ? 
 Nothing had ever passed between us that 
 we could not be friends, and no more.' 
 
 ' Did her husband know T 
 
 ' There was nothing to know. He grew 
 very friendly with me, and to his influence, 
 joined with her father's, I owed my rapid 
 advancement to a post which enabled me 
 to fight my way up to the position I have 
 achieved ; I believe her family knew of her 
 inclination for me, and felt indebted to my 
 reserve on the occasion.' 
 
 ' Did they approve of your intimacy with 
 her as a married woman ?' 
 
 * Oh ! they never interfered : Sir John 
 was clever enough and old enough to look
 
 MAN PROPOSES. 203 
 
 after his own wife, I suppose. Perhaps 
 they persuaded themselves they had made 
 all safe when the knot was tied ; we were 
 both too honorable to be suspected.' A 
 slight sarcasm tainted his deep voice with 
 gall as he spoke these last words. 
 
 ' You saw her very often after her 
 marriao^e ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; society was indispensable to her, 
 she said ; and, situated as she was during 
 her husband's frequent absence, she was 
 often deprived of any other congenial 
 companionship, and when left much to her- 
 self she became a prey to loneliness, einmi, 
 and a morbid longing for a more stirring 
 existence. She suffered from the unwhole- 
 some Indian life, with its long intervals of 
 monotony, when a woman, waited upon by 
 a swarm of attendants, has literally nothing 
 at all to do, and the dull current is seldom 
 broken, except by short hot hts of gaiety 
 run mad. Then you have a couple of 
 great balls, or so, and relapse into ditch- 
 water calm again ; I mean the women, of 
 course ; we men had no such humdrum 
 time of it, with the Sikhs and Afghans to 
 manage.'
 
 204 MY ONLY LOYE. 
 
 * Do not Enorlish ladies ride through the 
 country ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; that is the only change they have. 
 Lady Diana used to ride, she said, until 
 she grew sick of going out alone — that is, 
 with servants only ; so I rode with 
 her whenever I was stationed near at 
 hand.' 
 
 ' You used to act together sometimes ?' 
 'Sometimes; not often. It was a kind 
 of wild excitement with her, and became 
 too painful to both at last. She took to 
 acting with passion, but without judgment, 
 which is one way of making a fool of one's 
 self; it was just a substitute for anything 
 else to do or to think about, a vent for 
 uncontrollable emiOtions, She can com- 
 mand herself better now than she could 
 then ; I could not keep it up at that time 
 as she wished — in fact, I ceased playing at 
 all, as my responsibilities increased. Had 
 I not had this much firmness, we might 
 have been led into what we should have 
 been sorry for.' 
 
 * When she could have married you she 
 threw away your love, like a heartless 
 coquette ; when she was married her-
 
 :NrAN PROPOSES. 205 
 
 self, she was without excuse to lead you 
 wrong-.' 
 
 ' You are hard upon her, Leila ; believe 
 me, I would rather my tongue and right 
 hand were cut off than I should say there 
 was wrong between us.' 
 
 ' She kept you from forming any honor- 
 able tie, she looked for her husband's 
 death for your sake. You call this right ?' 
 
 ' I do not ; but, like most husbands in 
 his position, Sir John seems disposed to 
 thwart any such hopes as his wife may 
 indulge in contingent on his death ; though 
 an old man, I believe he is likely to live 
 long enough to see us both out — me, at 
 least — I am not one of those iron constitu- 
 tions.' 
 
 ' She has spoiled all your life — you v/ill 
 never love another so well ' 
 
 ' I gave proof to the contrary, Leila, in 
 seeking you ; I was weary of my hard 
 bachelor's life, when your affection came to 
 me like an angel's visit, and I longed to 
 attach to my side so sweet a companion ; 
 I hesitated, I own, in view of the obstacle, 
 but by thinking and thinking my plans 
 were laid — first of all to make you my own
 
 206 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 by a secret union, then, on my return to 
 India next autumn, I intended you should 
 come out under the protection of a lady 
 and her husband, friends of mine, and live 
 with them, not known to be my wife, but 
 often together — very often.' 
 
 ' You would have made me your Amy 
 Robsart — poor Amy ! she had a cruel end 
 — but I should have consented to a like 
 death to have known her happiness.' 
 
 ' God forbid, Leila ! I have enough to 
 answer for already ; you would have been 
 content to return to your native land of the 
 sun, to live in silence and secret, as in a 
 dream, with me to give you every hour 
 that I could spare from ruling its destinies? 
 You would have been happy as my wife, to 
 lose all the world besides ?' 
 
 ' Oh, too, too happy ! You could do 
 this ?' 
 
 ' I told no one — but my friends would 
 not refuse to protect you ; until we were 
 married safe, I did not dare to trust our 
 secret to them ; it seems my caution was 
 needed — too sorely needed !' 
 
 ' I suppose, then, it was not to be ! I 
 ouofht not to have consented. Had I
 
 MAN PROPOSES. 207 
 
 been your wife, with any doubt about me, 
 what would my father say to me, if he 
 lived ?' 
 
 ' True, true ! You had no right to run 
 any risk, because you were an unfriended 
 orphan ; I should not have asked that of 
 you I could not have expected of another ; 
 but I meant all well, all in honor. I 
 trusted to achieve so secure an eminence, 
 that in time I should overcome any mortal's 
 power to injure me or mine ; ultimately, 
 I hoped to lead you through the world at 
 my side.' 
 
 ' You say so to me as if you knew it 
 could never, never be.' 
 
 ' I cannot tell at present ; I would not 
 draw upon myself, I dare not draw upon 
 you, the revenge of a woman in her de- 
 speration.' 
 
 ' What is it that she can do ?' 
 
 ' I know not what she can not do — she 
 has the will. If I outraged her feelings 
 openly by marrying you, she can expose all 
 that has passed between her and me, and 
 in that case, the worst construction is what 
 the world always puts upon every indis- 
 cretion ; her husband, now my fast friend,
 
 2O0 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 would become my deadly enemy ; she 
 would do that, if she were to blast herself 
 along with me. This would involve my 
 fall from place, power, fame, all T have 
 won so hardly, and make my name a title 
 of execration — ^just the same as happened 
 to Byron in his time ; the people of England 
 have their indignation fits to punish such 
 high placed offenders.' 
 
 ' Lady Diana would bring this upon you 
 — and herself ?' 
 
 ' She would do anything. If there be 
 no other way to conquer me, she will fight 
 me with fire, like the princess in the 
 Eastern story, who fought the enchanter 
 with his own weapons, until both perished 
 in the flames — but she was conqueror. 
 The woman always is who will sacrifice 
 herself to destroy her foe.' 
 
 ' But, Arthur, she cannot divide us for 
 ever without your will — with my will she 
 shall not' 
 
 ' J^^to^- ^^ ^^^ ^^ your own heart, 
 Leila ; you love me too well to desire 
 my ruin, involving too, yourself; no other 
 result could follow, were we to marry 
 now.'
 
 MAN PROPOSES. 2O9 
 
 ' Not now ; but even if never to marry, 
 I could be content, happy, more than happy, 
 if I felt sure you loved me.' 
 
 ' That, Leila, you wrong us both to 
 doubt, after all that has passed between us.' 
 
 ' But must we be parted, whose hearts 
 God has joined together by circumstances 
 so wonderful, so strange ? i\Iust a false, 
 bad woman have the power ?' 
 
 ' Hush, Leila ! have some respect for one 
 of your own sex, who has suffered as I 
 trust you never can suffer.' 
 
 ' Don't say that ; you know not what I 
 am capable of for your sake.' 
 
 ' A passionate, utterly disappointed 
 woman, who for her worst misfortune has 
 herself to blame — there is no sting like that 
 to embitter failure.' 
 
 ' I am to blame that ever I gave myself 
 to you heart and soul. Oh, do not throw 
 back the fatal gift now ! If not as your wife, 
 let me cling to you as your devoted friend 
 — like a child to a father — like a dog to 
 one who has shown it kindness — at least 
 let me see you sometimes, let me not be 
 thrust away from you — not far away, and 
 you gone to the other ends of the earth. 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2 TO MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 Let me follow — if not your wife, I am — I 
 am — your love.' 
 
 He knew I spoke in innocence, like 
 Elaine, thinking no harm ; he smiled ten- 
 derly, sadly, but with a firm voice made 
 answer, ' That cannot be.' 
 
 * Then there is nothing more to be said, 
 but I must die.' 
 
 ' Die, Leila ?' 
 
 ' It is better for me to die than to live, 
 deserted and miserable. It is more than I 
 can bear ; I long to die !' 
 
 ' That is madness, Leila ; you, so young, 
 so brilliantly gifted. Leave misery to 
 those who have deserved their own 
 misfortunes ; the world is before you 
 yet.' 
 
 ' The world is nothing to me ; I have no 
 father, no mother, no friend but my poor 
 old grandmother, who, if I were to die to- 
 morrow, would shed a tear for me. Oh, 
 God, I wish I could ! You — you were 
 all my world, and I have lost you, 
 Arthur ! 
 
 * Don't say that, my own Leila ; with 
 time and patience we may overcome all 
 things.'
 
 MAN PROPOSF.S. 2 I I 
 
 ' But you will not let me go w'th you to 
 India ?' 
 
 * No, darling ; you must return home ; 
 you are better disposed there, until I can 
 honorably claim you ; until then the less 
 we meet the better. If you could bear to 
 meet day after day, as we have met these 
 weeks past, and be no more than that to 
 each other — if you could bear it as an in- 
 nocent orirl, I as a man could not ; it is 
 best that we should be parted ; God knows 
 that in all that has passed between us you 
 have had enough of wrong.' 
 
 ' But her — you will not meet her ? 
 There is a ball at the palace to-night ; she 
 will be there ; but you — ^you will not go ?' 
 
 ' Nay, I must ; my official position makes 
 it an obligation ; but what of that, Leila ? 
 Amongst a thousand people, what harm can 
 one woman do to a man ?' 
 
 * Oh, Arthur, you will meet her there, 
 where I am excluded ' 
 
 ' In public what can it matter ? I am 
 not in a position to shun her society like 
 the plague. Forgive me, Leila ; I did not 
 say that to give you pain, unreasonable 
 child.' 
 
 14—2
 
 212 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 He caught me to his breast in one em- 
 brace — one only. Oh, how unhke our 
 parting as it was wont to be ! A kiss upon 
 my fore-head, a passionate, despairing kiss, 
 and he left me to my grief alone !
 
 
 ^z 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 - 1 '^^^^^^i 
 
 ^m 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WOMAN DISPOSES. 
 
 After he was gone I beo^an little by little 
 to realise, to see clearly through the horrid 
 situation ; then I knew that his influence 
 had bound me with a strong spell to sub- 
 mit my will to his. In his presence, it would 
 seem passion slept ; now the awful fire that 
 should consume my life's springs, subdued 
 and satisfied for a moment by sight of him 
 sprang up anew to torture me, and could 
 not be quelled by my effort. Now was 
 the truth sensible to me : I had misread my 
 course with him, I had been too tame ! 
 
 My own will and judgment I must not 
 so easily give up — if he went to India, 
 thither I must follow ; I had the right to 
 breathe the same air, if not to see him.
 
 214 ^^Y ONLY LOVE. 
 
 rather than put half the world between us. 
 No need of that. We at least were not 
 divided by a gulf of sin and shame, such 
 as he must wade throuoh to reach her. I 
 could go to India and seek a harbour with 
 my mother's kindred : was I not born 
 there ? That right of birth should stand 
 me in stead now, and the bright inheritance 
 of my dear father's fame, I could not 
 doubt, was remaining there for me. 
 
 The room shook with the rolling of 
 carriage wheels ; I heard and felt them 
 night after night since I came to town. We 
 lived in a nook of a street close by a fashion- 
 able neighbourhood. I had not yet grown 
 accustomed to the perpetual noise, rolling 
 and rolling continually, as they bore the 
 gay throngs from scene to scene of fes- 
 tivity, to banquet and ball, where those 
 two might meet one another, where he 
 might meet all the world as it lay at his 
 feet, and whence I was shut out. Those 
 wheels rolling and rolling on as if for ever 
 — they bore upon my brain now ! 
 
 I called to mind, involuntarily, every 
 word I had heard said by Mrs. Heathcote 
 and others, of her, of him. There was no
 
 WOMAN DISPOSES. 215 
 
 shutting out the conviction that, whatever 
 I might beheve the truth to be, the world's 
 condemnation had been passed upon the 
 liaison, silently, and without scandal, inas- 
 much as the husband was quiescent ; but if 
 he were to add his voice, then indeed it 
 would be the ruin of Arthur's fame and 
 name. It might be there was no guilt ac- 
 complished yet, only the suspicion of it 
 clinging to him through her. To ward off 
 such suspicion he might be led — heaven 
 knows to what. Had not that woman 
 boasted to me of her power over him as if 
 she gloried in her very shame ^ 
 
 Jealousy, yes, horrible jealousy, entered 
 into my breast like the possession of a 
 demon. I took measure of her, as she 
 had done of me, in hate and loathing ; 
 every detail of her face, form, and manner 
 of speech became present with me. Now, 
 even now, was she spreading for him the 
 snare of her beauty and fascination, with 
 every allurement of pernicious charm 
 to betray a man to death and perdition. 
 I could feel the wondrous texture of her 
 milk-white arms, round and soft like a 
 babe's, emerging half seen from their
 
 2l6 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ruffles of rich lace ; her bosom's rise and 
 fall I could perceive through the mist of 
 vaporous gauze — like bright clouds float- 
 ing before the moon's fair orb, that men's 
 eyes should the more desire the full lustre 
 of her loveliness. My thoughts shaped an 
 image of her form, grandly moulded, like 
 the statue of a Roman Empress. Oh, 
 me ! I had no beauty to contend with 
 hers ! 
 
 It was ten o'clock when my resolution 
 took shape ; something I saw palpably 
 before me was leading me on to do it. 
 The step was a desperate one — to go that 
 very moment and seek him out, wherever 
 he might be, to forbid him meeting her 
 again on the peril of his soul and mine ! 
 
 Prudence, reputation, consequence, I for- 
 got them all, meaning no ill. There was 
 no one to advise or detain, no one to ac- 
 company me — Mrs. Heathcote and her 
 husband were both on duty at the theatre. 
 I reasoned with myself : Arthur was, 
 perhaps, gone to the ball, and I should be 
 too late to find him. No matter, I must 
 go! 
 
 I went ; I reached his abode, chambers
 
 WOMAN DISPOSES. 2 1 
 
 apart from his official residence, where he 
 had given me of late his private address ; 
 a carriage was at the door, I recognised on 
 it the Hope Trevor arms ; was it waiting 
 there for her or her husband ? If the latter, 
 what would he think of me ? I could not 
 stop myself now ; my attempt had passed 
 beyond my own control. 
 
 I obtained entrance, and stood upon the 
 first landing, before his door ; there was a 
 demur to my coming in by the servant 
 who opened it ; some one was speaking in 
 the room within. Through a closed inner 
 door beyond I recognised her ; I grew 
 actually bold, that had trembled like a 
 fallen leaf till then. What right had this 
 evil-hearted married woman to come 
 between me and my love ? Oh, how I 
 abhorred the thought 1 I would dare her 
 out to the bitter end ! I glided past the 
 servant, and — I know not how — passed 
 through the obstacle of the inner door. I 
 stood before them like the spectre of their 
 own dead conscience : pale as a spasm of 
 remorse, the accusing angel who will keep 
 no silence, I stood there uttering not a 
 word, as I smote him with my eye.
 
 2 1 8 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 He neither spoke nor moved, but to lay 
 his hand across his brow, as if in sharp 
 pain ; she — she glared at me, like the wild 
 cat from the hollow of a tree, measuring 
 the length between her and her victim's 
 throat, yet doubtful of her own strength to 
 spring so far ; her brow grew black with 
 the wrath pent within her heart, her blue 
 eyes darkened, while she hissed between 
 her teeth, rather than said, ' What brings 
 you here, young lady ?' 
 
 I was past all fear, all respect of con- 
 sequences to myself or others. Arthur 
 looked at me with imploring signs to be 
 silent and to go. It was in vain, he had 
 lost all power upon me now. I answered, 
 as it was borne in upon me to answer, calm 
 and proud, as she was fierce and beside 
 herself with wrath : ' My Lady Diana, I 
 am come for reasons of my own, with 
 which no stranger has the right to take 
 concern ; as to meeting your ladyship in 
 this company, I did not expect the honor, 
 nor certainly should I have aspired to it.' 
 
 * Oh, I quite understand ! You came to 
 enjoy the gentleman's society en tHe-a-tete. 
 My presence is inconvenient, not being a
 
 WOMAN DISPOSES. 219 
 
 chaperon of your own choosing, yet I think, 
 for a young lady of your birth and posi- 
 tion, you venture a good deal. Suppose I 
 were to tell our mutual friends and ac- 
 quaintances of this pleasant little encounter? 
 What should you think of that. Miss 
 Fortescue ?' 
 
 ' Please yourself, Lady Diana, amongst 
 your own circle. I am quite sensible I do 
 not belong to it, neither do I hold myself 
 answerable for what others may say of me 
 contrary to truth ; I have done nothing of 
 which I ought to be ashamed. Can you 
 say as much ? Suppose that I, or any one, 
 spoke of you to your husband, as I have a 
 right to speak ?' 
 
 I was carried out of myself so far, and 
 there I stuck in the slough of shame ; I 
 could not utter the black thought within 
 me, but she, being guilty, understood me 
 well, and braced herself to assume the 
 boldness of the desperately bad among 
 women. 
 
 ' What do you dare to hint at ? Take 
 care what you say, young girl ; remember 
 your station is beneath me, you have no 
 right to speak a word of what I choose to
 
 2 20 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 do, nor conjecture about my conduct. Aha ! 
 at your peril provoke a blow between 
 us.' 
 
 ' You are not at the Queen's ball to- 
 night,' I said ; ' you make General Hope 
 Trevor believe you are there ; your very 
 dress betrays the game you play.' 
 
 She glanced in alarm at the marvellous 
 pile of azure satin, pink gauze clouds, and 
 folds of lace, lighted up with a huge wealth 
 of jewels, all so combined as to make her 
 beauty a wonder and delight to the eyes of 
 men. The room felt faint with the rich 
 scent of many coloured roses blended with 
 her adornment ; from the cunning^ intricacies 
 of her hair, down to the edge of her airy 
 draperies. She looked at herself and then 
 at me ; trembling, I know not whether with 
 rage or fear, she turned upon m.e : 
 
 ' I shall be at the Queen's ball, if I 
 am not there yet. I choose my own time, 
 and my own movements ; I refuse to have 
 you set yourself as a spy upon me. You, 
 sir, call this young person your friend, I 
 suppose. If you are not my enemy, order 
 her to quit your house.' 
 
 * I will go myself when you go. Lady
 
 WOMAN DISPOSES. 22 1 
 
 Diana, but not before,' I cried ; ' otherwise 
 I tell your husband.' 
 
 She burst into a horrid laugh. ' What 
 can you tell my husband ? you think you 
 can make him believe your word against 
 mine and Arthur's ? We shall deny every 
 syllable you can say.' 
 
 ' He shall hear the truth, whether he 
 believes it or not : you came here, Lady 
 Diana, to corrupt and ruin, if you can, 
 your husband's friend ; are you not ashamed 
 — I blush for you — a woman to tempt, 
 seduce a man — it is too horrible.' 
 
 ' Go, go away — away ! I cannot suffer 
 this. Arthur, am I here to be insulted in 
 your presence, and you stand by } Turn 
 her away, turn her away ! Rid me of the 
 sight of her !' 
 
 What a face Arthur turned upon me ; 
 that broke my spirit within my heart ! He 
 forced me out of the room, I know not 
 how, with a faint promise to see me on 
 the morrow. ' Oh, Leila,' he whispered, 
 ' you have ruined all ; undone yourself and 
 me !' 
 
 I know no more, shall never know. 
 I had a dream that night, although I never 
 closed an eye ; I saw in spirit
 
 2 22 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 I arose with the morning, yet not I, 
 Leila Fortescue ; it was another — a broken 
 thing, a strange, older face that met me in 
 the glass with a look I recognised not as 
 my own ; it was as though ten years had 
 gone in that one waking night. 
 
 I had thrust myself in where I should 
 not, and he would hate me now. I dressed 
 my hair as usual, mechanically ; among 
 its dark depths I found some grey hairs 
 scattered like untimely snow upon the buds 
 in their April bloom.
 
 \m 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 ^gm 
 
 mj 
 
 ^^g 
 
 Mam 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 ivfn^'vP^ 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^^g^ 
 
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 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LOVE, THOU ART BITTER. 
 
 And Arthur kept his promise, to the letter 
 that killeth, if not in the Hfe-giving spirit 
 of hope. That first day of my despair he 
 came early in the forenoon ; his first look 
 of estrangement was enough — I knew, yes, 
 I knew. 
 
 No question did I ask him ; tenderly 
 and reverently as a father had I ever 
 thought of him ; though the deep tone of 
 his voice, as it softened to me, and the 
 magic of his eye, had stirred my heart to 
 its utmost depths with the thrill of an un- 
 known passion — my first and last. This 
 was the love that lives through life unto 
 eternity, passing with the soul within the 
 gates of death, and rising pure as immortal
 
 2 24 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 light upon the angel's eyes — the virgin veil 
 that trembled upon my heart enclosed his 
 too in its tender embrace, until now that 
 this suffered profanation. I blushed for 
 him as a part of myself; I burned with 
 shame at the outrage that another woman 
 had beguiled his love. Let me doubt, if 
 possible, rather than believe the worst ! 
 If this were true, let me be deceived! 
 Had the marriage vows been ' as dicers' 
 oaths ' to them ? or, while the heart lapsed 
 from virtue, had the feet kept to the narrow 
 path of honor at least ? Let there remain 
 a doubt upon it for ever ! I remember 
 how, when a child, I had heard my grand- 
 mother tell the story of Nelson and Lady 
 Hamilton ; in no measured terms of repro- 
 bation did she speak of ' England's darling 
 hero ' on that theme. I did not under- 
 stand then, but as I grew up to read 
 history, the early deep impression led me 
 to examine for myself the justice or false- 
 hood of the aspersion that blurred one of 
 Eno;land's briorhtest Mories. I found it 
 recorded in the truthful page, how Nelson 
 owed to a woman's helping zeal the first 
 victory that made him great; that the
 
 LOVE, THOU ART BITTER. 225 
 
 woman was beautiful exceedingly, and in 
 her unfriended youth had been tempted 
 through that beauty into error ; that she 
 married an honorable man, and, as his wife, 
 met Nelson, her husband's friend, and, as 
 such, served his interests together with 
 England's welfare. I learned how Nelson 
 loved this woman with a grateful love, 
 so honorable in itself that the whole story 
 of their friendship, and how much she had 
 done on his behalf, was written by him to 
 his wife, act by act and word by word — I 
 read how this love grew to a devouring 
 passion, how Nelson yielded up his heart, 
 estranged from his wedded wife, to her 
 whose gift was fame. I marked how 
 suspicions arose, in private, in public, all 
 over the world, yet how the recording pen 
 says, if that great heart wandered, we must 
 deplore the alloy of human weakness in 
 the noblest born of England's worthies — 
 that error led to guilt was doubtful at the 
 worst, so must be left for ever. The 
 chaste virgin muse of history would blush 
 to tell a sadder, more ignoble tale ! 
 
 And so, as England felt for her Nelson's 
 fame, the like did I for my hero-love. 
 
 VOL. L 15
 
 2 26 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 That he had betrayed his friend's trust to 
 rob him of the honor of his wife — no, any- 
 thing but that ! I could not look in Arthur's 
 face and believe such a thin^ of him ! 
 
 It was long — how long I know not — 
 before either of us could find a word to 
 speak to the other, and, when his utterance 
 came at last, how faint it sounded in its in- 
 expressible sadness ! ' Leila,' he faltered, 
 in hoarse whispers, * oh, Leila, we are 
 both undone ; yet spare me and yourself 
 what would do no good to either now.' 
 
 ' Spare you ?' I cried. ' You have come 
 to me to ask — what ? My silence ? You 
 have not deserved it from me ; you have 
 trampled on my dearest feelings, and for 
 her, that woman ! You remember my 
 dead father ! Should his dauofhter's heart 
 be poorer than a worm's, think you ? I was 
 not born to be the abject slave, the play- 
 thing of a man !' 
 
 ' Leila, you are very bitter against me.' 
 I could not be that ; I bowed my head 
 and sobbed in agony — he saw his power. 
 ' Leila, if you would have your revenge of 
 me, take it. God knows you have the 
 right, as surely as you have the opportunity;
 
 LOVE, TIIOU ART BITTER. 22 7 
 
 go, if you will, to that woman's husband, 
 and tell him you found her closeted with 
 me alone last night, when he believed she 
 was at the palace ; repeat to him whatever 
 you overheard.' 
 
 * No ; I shall not do that. I heard 
 nothing but the sound of her voice, and I 
 rushed in — perhaps I had a right — but, 
 Arthur, I am no listener, and if I were, I 
 
 could not bear to hear ' My voice was 
 
 choked in my throat by the hard grip of 
 pain. 
 
 ' Leila, it is in your hands to make the 
 world my enemy ; there is no man's heart 
 but would take your side, who have no 
 father, no protector ' 
 
 * Oh, true, true ! You were the safer in 
 betraying me.' 
 
 ' No ! I tell you, no. There I am most 
 without excuse, without chance of mercy 
 from those who out of my fault would feed 
 their envy to my ruin. Set me at issue 
 with Sir John Hope Trevor for that worth- 
 less woman's sake, all England looking on 
 at the tragic farce, and this day six months 
 I shall write myself, hot Viceroy of India, 
 but knave, imoostor, fool, or what my 
 
 I =; — 2
 
 228 MY OxNLY LOVE. 
 
 enemies' worst malice will. Be it so, if 
 you are my enemy, Leila ; but for you, and 
 you alone, remember, all this had never 
 been.' 
 
 ' You mean that I was wrong to love 
 you, Arthur, or if I could not help that, 
 even to dare hope when you bade me 
 hope. I did not seek you unmaidenly, 
 Arthur ; had you never spoken I could 
 have suffered in silence, I knew you were 
 so far above me !' 
 
 ' Leila, you would be a wife for a hero 
 or an emperor, if he were but free. I am 
 not ; that is the poison of the curse upon 
 me !' 
 
 ' Not free, you say, because of a married 
 woman, your friend's wife ? Oh, Arthur, 
 it was hard not to tell me at first the bitter 
 truth. What had I done to you, that you 
 would not spare me this ? This quenching^ 
 of the hope you yourself kindled, till it 
 grew to be all my life — you tear it from 
 me, when to part with it I must die. Why, 
 why did you not save me from this 
 misery ?' 
 
 * I thought not to 'go so far as I did ; I 
 was charmed with you, Leila, fascinated
 
 LOVE, THOU ART BITTER. 229 
 
 without knowing it : I did not expect you 
 to love me to your hurt at my age ; to me 
 you were a child.' 
 
 ' Not such a child as to be content with 
 a half share in your affections, halting be- 
 tween me and a woman I cannot speak of 
 but with a stain upon my lips ; rather than 
 that, I will rend my heart in two, and cast 
 you out of it ; am I child or woman now ?' 
 
 ' Leila, to your own heart's content you 
 have power to wring mine ; I have deserved 
 the worst you can say or do to me, only too 
 well. Not to excuse myself, who am with- 
 out excuse, I tell you I did not reason — I 
 loved you, when it was only madness to 
 yield to such passion ; I loved you, as a 
 man, not naturally prone to evil, loves the 
 one woman who could bring an earthly 
 heaven into his arms in her purity and 
 devoted tenderness. I saw but the rapture 
 of the end, and seized the readiest means, 
 roughly, and without reflecting enough 
 upon the risks to both ; what a man longs 
 for too much, too ardently, becomes reality 
 to his hope — though with that hope de- 
 ferred or crossed another's innocent heart 
 must sicken as well as his own. I have
 
 230 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 deserved that your love should turn to 
 hate.' 
 
 ' Yes, if I could hate, loathe you, that 
 would be something less wretched than 
 what I suffer now ! Oh, Arthur, how you 
 have humiliated me, broken my pride in 
 your true nobility of soul ; you have de- 
 faced, as you only could, the image of your 
 own glory in my heart ; you have covered 
 my love with shame and dishonor in my 
 eyes !' 
 
 I had spoken too much — he could not 
 bear to hear any more : my words were 
 sharp daggers, driven home by his own 
 conscience, whose strength, not mine, 
 thrust through his heart. Mechanically he 
 rose to go. I saw it ; I sprang forward as 
 if to stay him with one wild clasp. Shame 
 held me back. I fell upon the ground at 
 his feet, for my spirit had well-nigh gone 
 from me. He rang the bell, called Mrs. 
 Heathcote; she raised me up, while he bent 
 over me, but did not touch me ; that was 
 all I knew, and so I was left to my despair. 
 
 I believe I took it very quietly, after 
 reluctant hope had given her last death 
 throe ; anyhow, I did not go mad yet, and,
 
 LOVE, THOU ART BITTER. ^ 1 
 
 being asked by Mrs. Heathcote what I 
 meant to do — whether I would not return 
 to my grandmother at home ? — coolly 
 answered — ' By-and-by, after the perform- 
 ance next Monday.' 
 
 ' My dear, what have you got to do with 
 that ?' remonstrated Mrs. Heathcote : * you 
 don't want to go to Woolwich, surely ^ 
 — you're too ill for this extra fatigue.' 
 
 ' I am not — I mean to see her act.' 
 
 ' What ! to go in front ? You can't go 
 alone, and who is to take you ?' 
 
 ' Are you not going ? Why can't I go 
 with you ?' 
 
 ' My dear, 'tis impossible. I shan't be 
 in front ; I'm going to direct the perform- 
 ance and keep the amateurs together, as 
 I've got the chance to be out of the bill 
 here next week. You can't sit and be 
 stared at alone in a crowd, and before your 
 friends, too. What would Arthur think of 
 you .■*' 
 
 ' True : he must not see me there. Are 
 there no private boxes ? — I would give any 
 price — no place where I could see and be 
 hid?' 
 
 ' Nothing of the sort ; unless you ■^^^^nt
 
 ^J- 
 
 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 to make a public show of wearin^^ the 
 willow ; that's just the interpretation all the 
 world will put upon your poking your little 
 face among those people, a young girl like 
 3'ou.' 
 
 * Then I must not ; but I shall remain 
 here till it is over, and remember, I trust 
 to you for a true account of the whole busi- 
 ness.' 
 
 ' And so you may, my dear ; that's the 
 most sensible thing you can do under the 
 circumstances, unless you would go home 
 at once and drive the whole concern out of 
 your mind.' 
 
 * I will do so afterwards. I could not 
 stir from this, in any peace, until next 
 Monday night is over and I know what- 
 ever you have to tell me afterwards.' 
 
 * All right, my dear ;' and so we settled 
 it. I remained in town until over the 
 Monday, and Mrs. Heathcote's story of 
 that night was mixed up in a grotesque 
 jumble with the preparations for my 
 journey, altogether like the ugly mocks of 
 an impossible dream, less absurd than the 
 derisions of our waking sleep of life. 
 
 My first question to Mrs. Heathcote was
 
 LOVE, THOU ART BITTER. 233 
 
 about Arthur. Was he behind the scenes 
 during that night ? 
 
 ' Never saw him at all, good or bad, or 
 in front either.' 
 
 ' Was he not there ?' 
 ' Of course he was bound to be there, 
 but he was not proud of the position ; he 
 hid himself among the audience somewhere. 
 Sir John came round before we began, and 
 complimented me on my part of the 
 business. Oh, he was quite delighted !' 
 
 * Indeed ! I have heard him say he 
 wished Lady Diana would give up acting 
 altogether.' 
 
 ' Very likely, but his wishes have no- 
 thing to do with what she chooses ; and, as 
 Lady Diana must act, it is quite right her 
 husband should feel his obligations to the 
 professionals who help her not to make too 
 great a fool of herself. Oh ! she'll act as 
 long as she can stand. Sir John is a 
 brave, dear old duck — any woman could 
 turn him round her little finger. If I were 
 a young lady to be married, I would choose 
 him for my husband ' 
 
 ' Did she please herself, and htr 
 audience ?'
 
 34 ^lY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' Not worse than usual. All the men 
 on leave in her husband's old regiment had 
 free tickets for the gallery, and, of course, 
 they would applaud the general's wife ; 
 that's her idea of a "great success." Well, 
 there are women on the stage just as 
 bad.' 
 
 * As bad actresses ? or as unfair in the 
 way of applause ?' 
 
 ' Both one and the other. Lady Diana 
 has talent — decided talent. If she had 
 gone on the stage at sixteen, and worked 
 her way up, she might have made a great 
 actress ; as it is, I consider she does me 
 more credit than any pupil I have had for 
 so short a time. I should like to teach 
 her for twelve months. I never knew she 
 had so much stuff in her. Mrs. Gibber 
 has been spoiling her, and has taken such 
 a lot of money for it. Well, I never say 
 anything against another professional. I 
 should have taught her to walk first.' 
 
 * Taught her to walk ?' 
 
 ' Yes, to walk, not shambling along as if 
 her knees were tied together under her 
 train, and twitching it every now and then 
 out of her way. An actress has no busi-
 
 LOVE, THOU ART BITTER. 235 
 
 ness to touch her train, or to know that she 
 has one. 'Tis odd how ladies who go to 
 court can be so awkward with their trains 
 on the stage. She could not even carry 
 her dress, I don't know how she could 
 dance in it. One of the officers told me 
 he saw it on her at the Queen's ball' 
 
 ' The ball at the palace last week ? 
 Then she did go after I saw her in his 
 
 own room with Ar ?' I caught 
 
 myself on the slip of the tongue, and was 
 struck silent ; so, for some moments, was 
 Mrs. Heathcote, but after a long stare at 
 me she got out— 
 
 /Oh ! ah !' then, after another pause filled 
 up in the same way, ' I thought that gentle- 
 man had something to do with your noc- 
 turnal expedition. You saw her with him ? 
 at his chambers, you mean ? and she went 
 to the ball afterwards, of course ; people 
 do strange things sometimes, but a young 
 girl like you at a man's chambers ! The very 
 last place she ought to have seen you in. 
 I don't wonder she made her account of 
 you there.' 
 
 ' What business had she ?' 
 
 ' You've got nothing to do with that ;
 
 236 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 she would know where to stop, how to 
 save appearances ; besides, she's safe as a 
 married woman, whatever she chooses to 
 do. So long as her husband's eyes are 
 shut it's nobody's business to interfere.' 
 
 * What ! then you think he would put up 
 with ?' 
 
 * Anything at all, he would, I declare I 
 believe, and think no harm of his wife. 
 Oh, he's a noble old fellow ! I hope he's 
 not deceived in her ; she did go lencrths 
 with the young fellow who played De 
 Neuville, the lover — it was Mrs. Gibber's 
 business, she said at rehearsal : Mrs. 
 Gibber, indeed ! Whatever she makes her 
 pupils do is sure to be disgusting ; why, 
 Lady Diana kissed the man three times — 
 not staofe kisses either. Business is busi- 
 ness, but when amateurs can't draw the 
 line, they run into downright impropriety.' 
 
 ' She had a motive, perhaps, to make 
 some one jealous — not her husband.' 
 
 ' I know what you mean. I think De 
 Neuville took it she was smitten with his 
 charms in earnest. Any vain young fellow 
 would ; she drove him mad over his part. 
 He got up in the night to rehearse, and
 
 LOVE, THOU ART BITTER. 237 
 
 walked up and down his room repeating 
 his words in his nig^ht attire. Mr. Heath- 
 cotecould not sleep in the roombeneath him. 
 She has a great deal to answer for there ; 
 if she only did it to make someone else 
 jealous, she went very far with him.' 
 
 ' Did the public — did her friends like 
 it?' 
 
 ' Her friends, as you say, not the public. 
 She would have been hissed for such in- 
 decorum if she were an actress on the stage. 
 Her friends enjoyed it. I heard a titter in 
 the stalls, and they did laugh at her exit 
 up the steps ; she would have six steps, 
 and the lime light, if you please, to throw 
 out her diamonds and make up — she 
 would have anything that cost more 
 money. Well, as she got up the steps 
 her train rolled down them, like a jack in 
 the box coming out, and set the audience 
 in a roar : it was irresistible.' 
 
 ' That must have put her out very much, 
 what with the excitement she had before ?' 
 
 * Not a bit worse than every time she 
 acts ; she always manages to keep some 
 hold on her senses, like a half madwoman 
 out on leave.'
 
 238 MV ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' She does not forget what she has to 
 say ?' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! she speaks her words all right, 
 but she can't walk, and Mrs. Gibber can't 
 teach her ' 
 
 ' Perhaps Mrs. Gibber did not try ?' 
 
 ' Perhaps not ; I should, if she were 
 twenty years younger, but she's too old to 
 be taught, that's about the end of it when 
 all's said and done.' 
 
 Gruel Mrs. Heathcote, how I loved you !
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 SWEET IS DEATH TO ME. 
 
 Reader, have you ever noted, in the official 
 death returns, how many suicides every 
 year occur amongst the young ? How 
 many in the opening liower of their age, 
 seventeen and eighteen, ay, fifteen and 
 sixteen, find the burthen of hfe so intoler- 
 able at its dawn, as by their own act to cut 
 it off rather than strive to reach its noon 
 hours of rest, that pause on the path of 
 weary labour, the reward of patient en- 
 durance in strife which conquers all mortal 
 obstacles, and melts the obduracy of fate 
 itself ? These children of sorrow know 
 not by experience of the effect of Time's 
 slow but sure healing hand. Their first 
 affection, their first trust deceived, the one
 
 240 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 blow leaves them with the broken spirit 
 that mortals may not bear and live : it 
 seems to them as if there were nothing left 
 worth living for, no cause to renew the 
 struggle beyond their strength to suffer, 
 being not accustomed to the world's misery. 
 Thus, after one fatal mistake, will rash, 
 bright youth fling away its future — so easy 
 is it then to die — much to the wonder of 
 the old, who cling with such tenacity to the 
 poor remnant of mere existence, with no 
 pleasure in it left, when the last flicker of 
 life-fire is just dipping beneath the brink of 
 the open grave. 
 
 It seemed as though I too were about to 
 die. I came home changed in manner and 
 in face ; the health and elastic spring of 
 youth had gone away from me ; my in- 
 dustry and cheerful wa3^s all lost. My step 
 was heavy and languid, as if my weight were 
 more than my feet could bear, though my 
 slight, girlish form had lost all roundness, 
 and the slender bones were peering through 
 the wasted flesh on neck and fingers. I 
 was a spectacle and a marvel to the keen 
 observation of our little world, a provoking 
 object to my grandmother's surprise and 
 angry pity.
 
 SWEET IS DEATH TO ME. 24 1 
 
 ' What can be the matter with the girl ?' 
 she puzzled herself to discover one day, 
 having been irritated by the remarks of 
 Mrs. Nightingale, the jealous, as to my 
 extraordinary * going off' in bloom and 
 spirit, and dark hints as to the possible 
 causes, various complaints being first enu- 
 merated as incident to young girls ; finally, 
 dissatisfactionatbeino-stillwithouta husband 
 was hit upon as a reasonable excuse for my 
 'wasting away as thin as a whipping-post;' 
 and for this mischance, both Mrs. Nightin- 
 gale and my grandmother agreed, with some 
 inconsistency, I was myself chiefly in fault, 
 having shown the disposition of a little 
 coquette, by whom men dislike being made 
 fools of. But, Grannie added, I was quite 
 a child, and she hoped would know better 
 next time, and not throw away a woman's 
 only chance of any happiness in the world. 
 
 ' What is wrong with you, my child ?' 
 she asked in kindness, when we were alone 
 together ; ' do you wish to marry, now that 
 you have put it out of your power to make 
 a conquest, as you ought to have done ? 
 I'm afraid we must be content with a 
 humbler match now.' 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 ' No, Grannie, I will never marry be- 
 neath me.' 
 
 ' I do not wish that you should ; you are 
 not fit to marry anyone but a gentleman of 
 good birth, but we can never expect such 
 another match as George Mauleverer. I 
 knew at the time you would be sorry. I 
 told you when you were doing it there 
 would come a time when you would give 
 the whole world, if you had it, to undo the 
 fatal mistake of throwing such an offer 
 away. Is that what you are feeling now ? 
 Oh ! how well I knew you would ; how I 
 prayed, and lowered myself more than I 
 ought, to sue to you for pity for your own 
 sake, and I might as well have reasoned 
 with a stone wall, or an iron gate ; and now, 
 when it can't be helped, you have no 
 patience to bear what you brought upon 
 yourself and me with your eyes open.' 
 
 ' Grannie, you are mistaken — I am not 
 fretting after George Mauleverer ; if he 
 were free to renew his offer now, I should 
 refuse him again. I am glad he's married.' 
 
 * Then you ought not to say that to me. 
 How can you expect ever to do any good, 
 when you fly in the face of a parent ? You
 
 SWEET IS DEATH TO ME. 243 
 
 ought to have been married to him ; it is 
 very bad for me you were not — I should 
 have had peace then.' 
 
 ' I could not love him — I never could.' 
 * Pah ! I've no patience with such stuff. 
 What's the matter with you, then ? You're 
 killing yourself with grief ; ruining your 
 looks, and spoiling your voice, the only 
 two things that a woman can advance her- 
 self in the world by. Is it for a man you 
 are doino- it ? Oh Lord ! there's nothinof 
 so dreadful as girls in love to anyone who 
 has the care of them 1 Oh, what ari un- 
 fortunate old woman 1 am ! But surely if 
 you were in love, at least you would tell it 
 all to me ! That's impossible.' 
 
 So much the better that she concluded 
 so. She was the last to whom I could 
 bear to tell such a thing. Ec^tween her 
 world and mine lay the gap of a generation ; 
 she could not be to me as a fond mother, 
 to pour my grief into her bosom and be 
 comforted, to bear life for her sake who 
 gave it. I had frustrated her desire to 
 force happiness upon me after her own 
 views of woman's chief good, and she 
 could have no patience with my reasonless, 
 
 1 6 — 2
 
 244 ^lY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 causeless sorrow, which she took as an 
 offence and reproach to her own bringing 
 up of me. Struck with another idea 
 through my silence, she exclaimed, of a 
 sudden : 
 
 ' Is this a passion for the stage ? If so, 
 Lily, I had rather consent and let you try 
 to do the best you could than see you die. 
 Perhaps you would not be allowed to act — 
 you ought to tell me what happened to 
 you in London, and I could give you my 
 advice.' 
 
 * You are wrong there, Grannie — I have 
 no wish for the stage — I had rather you 
 left me to myself; there is nothing the 
 matter with me, indeed.' 
 
 * Nothing the matter with you ! and you 
 shedding tears from morning till night ? 
 That would be a bad tale to be told of me 
 — I will not live in the house with you — I 
 shall lose my character through you, as 
 well as the rest : you have ruined my 
 peace of mind and broken my heart already, 
 that's all the thanks I have got — no mother 
 ever sacrificed herself to a daughter as I 
 have done to you, and to be made feel 
 *• how sharper than the serpent's tooth is
 
 SWEET IS DEATH TO ME. 245 
 
 an ungrateful child," ' and, with this mis- 
 quotation against me, she rushed out of the 
 room. 
 
 I went to bed, where I could weep my 
 fill unquestioned, and take my miserable 
 pleasure in hot tears. I knew there would 
 come hours when I should refrain, when 
 all the water in my eyes should be shed, 
 and they needs must dry up in their 
 sockets, until nature should replenish their 
 fountains : I dreaded the dark, and left my 
 candle lighted upon the foot of my bed — 
 1 did not expect there was any sleep for 
 me. I lay awake several hours, but at 
 last fell asleep, the candle still burning : it 
 must have burned on till it came down to 
 the paper in the socket of the candlestick, 
 and after lighting that, the flame communi- 
 cated itself somehow to the bed-clothes and 
 mattress, not to burn up conspicuously, but 
 with a dull smouldering, such as a breath 
 would blow into a blaze, and set the house 
 on fire : as it was, the room was filled with 
 smoke when I awoke out of a dream of 
 stranorHng and suffocation to see the red 
 edges of fire creeping like worms in the 
 dark through the coverings of my bed —
 
 24-6 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 another moment and I must have been 
 stiried. I found my way to the window 
 and flung it wide open ; then a flame rose, 
 but I flung a jug of water upon it, dragged 
 the bed-clothes over, and crushed it down 
 into darkness : then I could not see, nor 
 find my way out of the room, and the thick 
 smoke was struggling with my breath. 
 Though the door was shut, it filled the 
 house with the smell of burning. My grand- 
 mother was aroused by it, and rushed 
 about in her long night-dress, thinking the 
 house was burning down ; she came into 
 my room, with a lighted candle in her 
 hand, to look for the fire. I told her I had 
 just put it out, which she did not believe 
 till she had searched every corner and 
 cupboard and found no fire, but the remains 
 of my burnt bed-clothes, and some marks 
 of fire on my night-dress : then I told her 
 how narrowly I had escaped being burnt 
 to death, and how thankful I felt there was 
 so little mischief done. 
 
 This was not her view of the adventure. 
 
 ' Nearly burnt in your bed ! Is that the 
 tale you have to tell me ? O Lord, what a 
 disgrace ! If I had not been here to watch
 
 SWEET IS DEATH TO ME. 247 
 
 you, the house would have been burnt 
 down, I suppose. Oh Lord ! and the 
 servants will see you've burned all the bed. 
 I'm well punished for your not beings mar- 
 ried. Oh Lord ! Oh Lord ! What a curse 
 it is to have such a child !' 
 
 ' I am sorry to be alive to trouble you. 
 I might have died for want of air, without 
 the house being burned, if I had waked a 
 few moments later. I am sorry it was not 
 so, since you take my escape of death as 
 you do.' 
 
 ' Oh, Lily ! Lily ! you are killing me ! 
 How can you say such a thmg to me ? My 
 character will be taken away from me, 
 along with the rest, if I live with you 
 any longer — there must be a separation — 
 there is no other way to have any peace 
 with you.' 
 
 I took her at her word, as if she meant 
 what she said, I would not keep a hateful 
 life by eating her bread any more. I knew 
 not what I should do — I put on my hat 
 and shawl and went out, wandering away 
 alone by the sea shore, with no fixed intent 
 but one — never again to return to my 
 home ; my grandmother would think better
 
 248 MY OxN'LY LOVE. ■ 
 
 of me if I were dead — we should vex each 
 other no lon2"er. 
 
 Through the death of mortal love, as 
 through the death of mortal life, the bruised 
 spirit is fain to pass, under the hand of 
 God, alone ; we are like the wounded bird, 
 or the fawn with an arrow in her side, on 
 broken wings or nerveless feet, dragging- 
 itself out of sight of its former companions, 
 ready to shun it in its misery, laying itself 
 down, amid some hidden covert beneath 
 the leaves to perish in secret. 
 
 Not seventeen, and longing to die ! 
 Yes ; the strong and terrible desire of death 
 was upon me now, and seemed to draw me 
 back into the earth, from whence the fair 
 beauty of all things springs — as Cyrus, the 
 great king, when dying, told his sons, and 
 bade them bury his royal corse in the 
 universal grave. I looked upon the grace 
 of my young form that I wished to destroy, 
 and let the dust return to the earth as it 
 was ; it pitied me for that, until I matched 
 in imagination my pale girlish charms 
 against her radiant beauty. What were 
 all my poor attractions beside that Lamia's 
 dazzling wealth of them to reduce a hero
 
 SWEET IS DEATH TO ME. 249 
 
 to her will? — hers, that evil-hearted, terrible 
 woman who had corrupted the noble 
 nature to which all my being climg. Are 
 stolen waters so sweet to m^in ? would she 
 entice him to set at nought her marriaofe 
 vows, the only oaths a man may violate 
 without infamy ? I never believed she 
 could. While I was near him, I could not 
 lift my eyes upon his face to think foul 
 shame of him ; but now that she had parted 
 us, a hideous light was forcing itself into 
 my eyes, and turning my love for Arthur 
 into heart-hate and disgust, more bitter far 
 than the sting of my own humiliation. I 
 knew that he would never write to me 
 again, after I left London, nor did he ; I 
 had nothing except two or three letters of 
 his, and a camellia, faded but tenderly 
 preserved — his gift in exchange for my 
 living heart. I drew it from my bosom, 
 where 1 kept it, and the cold earth felt 
 gentle to me as the sweet bosom of the 
 mother that bore me, her only child ; the 
 evening fell upon me as 1 lay, and the 
 moon threw open her pathway of light upon 
 the shining sea, as it were to bid my spirit 
 pass up the ladder of vision unto God.
 
 250 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 Could I meet Him now ? Was it my 
 destiny or my own sin that bade me despair 
 and die ? Across that wave and sky, from 
 beyond the stars, I heard loving voices call 
 me, who had none to love me on earth, 
 
 ' Leila, Leila .' I remembered my 
 
 father's voice, unheard since early childhood, 
 I knew it now, deep and tender, for ever- 
 more ; and a whisper came beside it, from 
 the mother's heart that ceased to beat when 
 mine began. Why were they taken and 
 I left in misery behind them ? Yes, they 
 were calling me now, with clear voices 
 from the world of spirits — did they know 
 of my sorrows, and even in the mansions 
 of the Highest could they weep for me ? 
 And I looked again into the far horizon of 
 the deep sea that separated me from the 
 bright distant land where their earthly 
 troubles slept beneath yonder light now 
 shining on my wretchedness alike. How 
 could I share their rest ? I asked myself; 
 in what manner would death come and 
 take me ? I felt him very near, and 
 trembled not. Was he comino- to woo me 
 with a bridegroom's kiss, more faithful and 
 true than his which burned my brow and
 
 SWEET IS DEATH TO ME. 25 1 
 
 lips with fire, and had left upon my soul 
 the ineffaceable mark of that baptism, 
 eternal as Vs own existence ? I was re- 
 minded of a story my ayah told me, when 
 I was a little child, of the lovely princess 
 * Krishna Kumari,' for whom the countries 
 of Rajpootanee were plunged in fratricidal 
 war by the claims of rival princes to her 
 hand, and how, to stay the cruel slaughter, 
 and give peace to the land of her birth, 
 the royal maid accepted the poisoned cup 
 tendered to her lips by her wretched 
 father's own hand, and, as she said ' This is 
 the bridegroom foredoomed for me,' drank it, 
 and speaking, trembled, sank down, and 
 died — the theme of an heroic story, early 
 in our nineteenth century. I fell asleep, 
 and dreamed I was an Indian princess, and 
 that a cup of poison was held before me 
 by an invisible hand. I bent my head 
 down to drink, and saw her face, my rival's, 
 in the bottom of the cup, as it were re- 
 flected in a glass — I awoke with a cry, and 
 saw that another day had risen on the sea. 
 I felt faint, and it came to my mind that I 
 had been wandering for a day and a night 
 without food. But I suffered no comm.-n
 
 252 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 hunger, the deep passion-thirst of the soul 
 had quenched the sense of bodily need ; 
 the tenderness and anguish of love came 
 upon me, and I moaned, a loud, wailing 
 note, that startled and pierced me through, 
 as it were some strange voice of nature's 
 unspeakable pangs — the sough of the wind 
 among the dark waves, or the murmured 
 moan of the troubled waters ; then the 
 memory of a dear voice came whispering 
 peace to my ear and heart, like the bird's 
 love-note of wooing to its mate : it could 
 not be denied or resisted by any strength 
 that was in me — I felt myself sink into his 
 arms to die with joy — but then — the 
 thought flashed upon me like lightning — 
 to divide his affections with her ! I spurned 
 the poisoned delight untasted from my lips. 
 Oh, God, my jealousy ! that pang was as 
 teeth of hre within my bosom — how had I 
 been infected with such horrible feelings, 
 as in my ignorance I dreamed not of ? 
 Had I fallen asleep in Paradise, after 
 tasting of the apple of the fall, and awaked 
 with ten years' sin and sorrow laid in one 
 night as a pall upon my young life's days ? 
 I thought of the Shunamite, the mystic
 
 SWEET IS DEATH TO ME. 253 
 
 bride of the great king, of the pains of her 
 bhss ; was love, then, in itself a pain ? 
 What must it then be to me, deceived, 
 betrayed, abandoned ? Was there no 
 remedy for such wretches as I ? Yes, one ; 
 I thought of it now, looking upon the 
 bright blue water, glittering in the early 
 sunlight, cold and beautiful, and upon me 
 the desire was very strong to allay the 
 awful fever of the heart as ' burnincf 
 Sappho ' allayed it, in the old Greek days, 
 when women loved as women can love 
 now. I was lying upon the scanty grass 
 mixed with sand, which made me not too 
 smooth a couch, upon a headland, not so 
 high, perhaps, as the rock of Leucadia, 
 from which the Lesbian leaped down to 
 make her eternal rest in the deep sea's 
 bed. But I could see the waters risen to 
 a height more than would cover my head, 
 and roll over it, as the tide came in ; and 
 down beneath, through their clear depths, 
 the shells and shingles and sea-ferns 
 showed distinct and beautiful as the floor of 
 a siren's chamber. I looked long, and with 
 keen and piercing gaze, and a resistless 
 impulse came upon me — I knew no more.
 
 2 54 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 I was beneath the waters, shut out from 
 air, though not from light. I could see 
 and realise the horror, while I could not 
 breathe; my life was being torn from me 
 in dumb agony, all the torments of strangu- 
 lation were upon me. I struggled madly, 
 and my anguish was the more — to my 
 amazement, I came to the surface, and felt 
 the sun warm upon me, to breathe the air 
 I had no time. I sank again, and felt no 
 more pain ! there were bells ringing in my 
 ears, and I knew they would go on until 
 the echo of all mortal sounds should die 
 out in one great silence. 
 
 I was lying in bed when I awoke to 
 sensation, not my own bed, as I saw very 
 soon. Close upon me were the narrow 
 walls of a cottage, a strange, but kindly 
 face was by my pillow — a fisherman's wife, 
 as I discovered afterwards ; her husband 
 it was who saw my cloak floating on the 
 water, and discovering a human being 
 beneath it, plunged in and rescued me in 
 time, from what he supposed to be an 
 accidental peril of drowning. As soon as 
 I recovered my senses, the fisher-wife 
 called to my poor old grandmother, \^hom
 
 SWEET IS DEATH TO ME. 255 
 
 I had not seen at first, as she sat at the 
 foot of my bed in silent despair. She rose, 
 and in violent agitation, motioned the 
 woman to leave us alone tos^ether. 
 
 * Grannie,' I said — I found I scarce 
 could speak, * I threw myself into the sea, 
 to take away my own life — if I recover, 
 Grannie, you will not say unkind things 
 again — you will not drive me to do such 
 an act ?' 
 
 ' Hush, hush ! for God's sake — don't let 
 them hear you talk so ! Did you do it on 
 purpose ? Let it be thought it was an acci- 
 dent — think of the disgrace, the ruin to us 
 both, if the world knew — I'll do anything 
 you like, my darling child ; only keep 
 that unknown for ever.' 
 
 ' What should you have done if I had 
 been dead ?' 
 
 ' Oh, child, child ! what should I do but 
 lie down and die too ?' 
 
 I was subdued by the words of kindness ; 
 I fell on her neck and kissed her, weeping 
 aloud, while she kept crying, ' Hush, hush ! 
 — take care they don't hear.' 
 
 I clungf to her now with all a daughter's 
 love' — poor old helpless thing ! how wicked
 
 256 MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 and cruel it was to give her so much 
 harrowing- anxiety ! I clasped her to my 
 heart as its only precious possession that 
 God had left, and we wept for each other : 
 was she not the sole frail plank between me 
 and utter desolation now ? 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 REMINGTON AND CO., I33, NEW BOND STREET, WJ 
 
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